


No Feelings Allowed

by mahalicious



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Aged up characters, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friends With Benefits, LadyNoir - Freeform, Marichat, NSFW, Sex Initiation, Smut shit, a lot of dorkness in the middle of all the angst, and eventual adrienette, and now look at all this dripping angst, i like suffering, i'm not crying you're crying, i'm supposed to be updating my other fic, ladrien, read it now or re will kill you, sex friends - Freeform, smut with angst, the perfect combination, the whole plot came from one single tumblr post, these kids are murdering me everytime, whoops sLO W BU RN
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-28
Updated: 2017-05-19
Packaged: 2018-08-18 08:37:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 34,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8155900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mahalicious/pseuds/mahalicious
Summary: "Given a chance, would you sleep with Chat Noir?"





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Random Sleepover Idea](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/231895) by ladyserendipitous. 

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Marinette has an unexpected dream and JuleRose is canon.

“Okay, Rose… Jagged Stone?”

The blonde drummed her index agaimst her lips.

“Well, he’s kinda old,” she answered eventually. “But yeah, I’d do him!”

“ _ROSE!”_

Juleka let out a squeak, much to the little group’s hilarity. Obviously, she was against the idea of sharing her new girlfriend with anyone, much less with the famous rockstar.

Rose, on the other hand, wholeheartedly laughed at the sight of her pouty face.

Well that was to be expected from Juleka.

The blonde quickly leant to plant a kiss on her cheek, apologetic.

“How about you, Alya?” Mylène asked. “XY.”

The interested party raised her eyebrows as high as her hairline, disgust plastered all over her face as she answered. “I’d do that one in before even reaching the bed.”

“Well, beds _are_ generally optional for a good rumpy-pumpy, so you may want to elaborate what kind of doing in you’re planning for him,” Marinette scoffed, reaching for the marshmallow bowl.

Alya pulled the bowl away from her friend’s reach. “Please, Mari, show yourself worthy of my love and friendship.”

The pig-tailed girl only laughed, leaning further to grab the treat as her friend rolled her eyes.

“I’m sure he’s not half as bad as you think he is,” Rose pleaded.

“You mean you’d sooner see him under a bus than helping an old woman cross the road,” Alix pitched in, grunting. “Anyway, weren’t you the one to say you’d gladly have Jagged Stone in _your_ bed? Heard those two were mortal enemies.”

“Yes, but I’m afraid Juleka already owns the place so… _I don’t really care about their bedroom drama_ ,” the blonde answered.

Juleka blushed at the implication, though all knew there was no need for it.

Saying everyone had been relieved when Rose had announced that the two were finally an item was probably an understatement. Saying that anyone had been surprised to know that not even two weeks after they had officialised their relationship, they had already crossed the threshold, would’ve been more than that.

It was more like a constant _‘Finally!’_ when it came to JuleRose, which made it quite the live novel in itself. Not only that, but it was incredibly refreshing to see a gay couple be so open, at least in Marinette’s opinion. Rose was the most vocal about it, jumping on any occasion she stumbled upon to show off her girlfriend. Though Juleka remained shy about several topics, Rose’s behaviour had the benefit of making her more confident, more spontaneous, more _open_.

And step by step, Juleka found she was enjoying herself more.

It made Marinette kind of envious to a certain extent, the ability that Rose had to shout anything she felt to the world and beyond without really caring about the consequences. She wished it could’ve been that easy with Adrien whenever she’d failed in stringing together a correct sentence in his presence.

Shouting her love to him seemed a long way to go.

She let out a sigh and focused her gaze on her bare feet.

“Your turn, Marinette,” Alya suddenly called out. “Given a chance, would you sleep with Chat Noir?”

Marinette’s eyes widened. “ _What?_ ”

“That’s actually a pretty good one! I want to know too,” Alix hopped.

“Oh yes! Chat Noir is so cute, I love his hair!” Mylène exclaimed, clapping excitedly.

“Cute? Man, I’d spank that moulded ass any day,” Alix countered before taking a handful of crisps and shoving them into her mouth.

“He’s always so nice and loyal to Ladybug,” Rose said, holding her hands together dreamily. “I actually ship them two!”

It took Marinette an inhuman amount of effort not to cringe at the thought.

 _Her and Chat Noir?_ Yikes, no.

“I always hoped LB would be gay for me,” Alya said with a suggestive grin.

“Alya, you’re not even gay,” Marinette commented, livid.

Either her friend didn’t hear her or decided not to respond and went on regardless. “But I have to say the idea of LadyNoir is too good to be ignored.”

Rose gave a small nod of approbation, soon followed by Mylène and Alix, and Marinette didn’t know where she preferred to be:

Right there at the sleepover or deep into her grave.

“N-Now come on, I’m sure Ladybug has better things to do than get into a relationship,” Marinette played off with a nervous laugh. “I mean, that’s fairly obvious. She saves Paris. And Chat and her are just _partners_.”

Alya raised a suspicious eyebrow. “You sound pretty sure of yourself.”

“I- Uh…”

“Actually,” Alix interfered, “it sounds like she’s insisting on the fact Chat Noir is probably a free match.”

Marinette’s jaw could’ve hit the ground and still have been a visual understatement of her shock.

“W-What? No! I-I’m just saying that-”

“It’s okay Marinette,” Rose said. “We won’t judge you because you have a crush on Chat Noir.”

“Does that mean you’d gladly have him in your bed, though?” Mylène asked, genuinely curious.

Marinette squeaked and exclaimed, “ _I DO NOT HAVE A CRUSH ON CHAT NOIR, OH MY GOD!_ ” Crossing her arms, she took a deep breath and continued, “I’m not saying Chat Noir isn’t good-looking or kind or funny, but I think he’s much better off as just a partner for Ladybug? Of course he’s a flirtatious noodle, but at this point it’s more banter than anything else. He teases, she pushes away, and they both know that. It can’t go beyond without disturbing their already set dynamic. And before you add anything, he is _not_ my type. He’s too cocky and full of himself. I mean, do you even imagine him _cracking a pun_ in bed?” She then glanced at Alya who was taking a sip of her soda. “And I already have an established crush.”

“Oh yeah, that’s right,” Alya said, hurriedly putting down her can to clap hands in a herding fashion. “Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s already got her eyes on someone else. The show is over, girls.”

Rose let out a disappointed whimper. “Just when it was getting interesting…”

“Okay but does that mean-” Alix began.

“No,” Marinette cut off. “I’m not sleeping with Chat Noir for the love of the Republic.”

“Not even-?”

“ _No._ ”

Everyone laughed.

That was complete nonsense.

Chat was nothing more than her partner, all set and happy in his cosy friendzone.

“Alix’s turn! Would you sleep with Kim?”

“ _Do I get to stab him afterwards?_ ”

Marinette sighed.

* * *

 

_‘Just close your eyes.’_

_Her breath was a blazing fire against his cheek, a cloud of heat that enveloped her own face when it collided with his. His tousled hair tickled her forehead and the feeling sent shivers through her oversensitive skin, racing down her veins and bones to crash in stormy, burning waves inside of her, threatening to make her lose her mind at any moment._

_Her lifeline was the emerald gaze that peered at her, studying her every jerk and gasp._

_Close her eyes, huh?_

_‘I don’t want to,’ she heard herself say._

_He laughed, and the sound reverberated against her lips, pushing her an inch closer towards the edge._

_‘Fine, _’_ he said. _

_His lips were on her neck before she could even protest, soft, hungry as they pressed open-mouthed kisses along her skin, leaving a cold, wet line in their trail when they sneaked closer to her bare shoulder. His tongue traced the line of her collarbone and she stiffened._

_He clicked his tongue when he cupped her breast, disappointed when he found the rigid fabric of her bra against his palm. His claw immediately moved to trace the outline of the underwear though, brushing against her chest as he explored the unfamiliar contraption in search of a way, any way, to get rid of it. His touch was tantalising and achingly slow against her skin, drawing goosebumps with each movement._

_She groaned and he lowered his head to kiss the flat space between her breasts, fingers crawling along the wings of her bra until he found the clip. He didn’t open it yet, choosing to run his tongue under the fabric, pulling at the skin, sucking. In the midst of her arousal, it felt like his hair smelled of cinnamon and wood and, suddenly, she felt herself plant a kiss on the crown of his head._

_He looked up at her in that instant, surprise painted all over his face. His tousled hair fell in messy blonde locks over his eyes, though his gaze still shone in the darkness, cat-like as he watched her. Horribly familiar and horribly captivating, gorgeous they were, burning into her very soul. His fingers on her back froze and she let her tongue run over her lips._

_He lunged forward instantly, capturing her mouth into a passionate kiss, crushing her against the bed as if he could never get enough of her mouth, learning, memorising every inch and square of it. His hands left her back to cup her face, fingers slithering to the back of her neck to play and tug at her raven locks as she bit on his lower lip._

_She arched her back and twisted in his embrace, hurriedly unclasping her bra, skin set ablaze by the craving desire that ignited her senses as she kissed him back. He tasted of cinnamon, too- and sweat._

_His hands, frenetic, found her shoulders, then the loose straps of her underwear. The feeling of the elastic as it slid down her arms tore a treacherous moan from her and when his thumbs finally found her nipples, she felt herself buckle under his touch, suffocating against his lips._

_He stroked the sensitive flesh in slow, tender circles, pinching and teasing, kissing her all the while as if to muffle her moans. He massaged her aching breasts, playing with her nipples one after the other, careful not to hurt her with his claws, though the tingle that grazed her skin every now and then drove her closer and closer to complete madness._

_He broke the kiss several times, breathless, but lunged back with equal lust every time, insatiable._

_She brought her hands to his belt, fingers shaking as she struggled to hook them into its loops, eager to pull him closer to her, to swallow the painful space between them. But he didn’t move, riveted on his knees as he continued to shower her with attentions._

_Her mind was too foggy to try and comprehend the reason._

_She decided to try something else. ‘Hey… Close your eyes?’_

_His breath was warm against her ear when he spoke and she could feel the smirk in his voice even as he heaved. She moaned. ‘Don’t want to.’_

_‘Don’t you want to see a magic trick?’ She asked, chuckling. Or whatever amused sound her ragged breath allowed her to make._

_He was now purring against the juncture of her jaw. ‘With all due respect, Princess, I’m a cat, not a bunny.’_

_‘You drive a hard bargain, kitty. What do you want in exchange?’_

_‘Let mew see…’_

_He didn’t answer for a full minute, nibbling on her ear lobe and tracing a lazy line down her stomach, playing with the hem of her panties in the most infuriating way. The closer he wandered towards her core, the more breath she held in, and it made her feel dizzy. In fact, she would’ve completely forgotten she’d even asked him a question if he hadn’t spoken again, long lost and gone, drowning in the sea of sensations that entrapped her._

_‘Stroke my ears.’_

_It took her a while to emerge from her haze, but she took a deep breath and felt him relax on top of her as his hands continued their ministrations, poking the fire that was already blazing inside of her. Hesitantly, she moved her fingers beneath the blonde mass of his hair in search of his actual ear, but the soft shake of his head nudged her to progress further to the top of his head. Her first thought when she touched the black triangle was that it felt like leather, cool in comparison to the searing of his skin against hers. The second was how they shivered at her touch, almost as if they were real._

_The cold fabric was refreshing, and she stroked the ear contentedly, revelling in the much welcome temperature. His purr intensified along with the massaging of her breasts and she curled her toes, exhaling._

_Then, she rolled over to straddle him._

_His eyes were closed, but his lips curved into that familiar smirk of his. When the moonlight shone against the bell of his neck, it finally occurred to her that he was still fully clothed and the sudden thought of undressing him sent a wave of pleasure spiralling down her stomach._

_She leant over and planted a kiss on the bulge of his Adam’s apple, feeling him gulp against her smug lips. Her fingers trailed up the zipper of his suit, painfully slow and taunting against his heaving chest. The erratic drum of his heart vibrated under her touch, almost deafened by the beating of her own. She bit her lip and couldn’t suppress a sigh when she finally pulled down the clinking bell to reveal his chest._

_His nose crinkled slightly when she pressed her hands flat against his torso, but he still didn’t open his eyes, which further encouraged her endeavour._

_She had, after all, promised him a surprise._

_The contact of her bare chest against his when she leant forward was intoxicating. It was nothing like the heated leather she’d dealt with for the past few… Few what? It didn’t matter. She pressed a kiss against the juncture of his jaw, eager to explore each part of his exposed skin with her own body. Her trembling hands searched every curve and chiseled muscle they could find under the black suit frenetically, caressing each patch of skin they grazed and pulling the sleeves to let her discover the hard surface of his shoulders and back._

_She only realised how he had grown in the three years they had known each other from the way his muscles now weaved into intricate, almost artistical combinations she yearned to learn by heart. He had changed, grown taller, stronger, and she suddenly felt the urge to explore all of him. But in that moment of perfect lust, it seemed like she could hardly even register her own thoughts, or dare claim control of her body._

_She moved to kiss his collarbone, devouring, and the occasional stiffening of his chest was enough indication for her to know she was doing good. She accelerated her pace, hips rolling against his own, instinctively, and he gasped._

_‘M-Marinette…’_

_His voice was barely a whisper, so faint she was actually surprised she’d heard it at all. The sound was in fact arousing, at least in her mind, and she took a deep, deep breath before letting her lips and tongue run across the burning flesh of his chest. She liked the salty taste of his sweat, even if it was a bit gross._

_Was it?_

_She felt him shiver under her mouth when she went lower, following the path of his ribcage until at last she reached the faint trail of blonde hair under his navel. At this point, he was all but a moaning mess._

_‘Marinette,’ he repeated, again, again and again, almost… No, not almost. Exactly like a prayer. ‘Marinette… Marinette…’_

_His voice drove her crazy and her kisses gained it intensity, encouraged by the effect she seemed to have on him. She groaned, biting at the tender flesh around his navel, before moving again to his lips, drinking his moans as he grabbed her hips in his clawed hands, drawing frenetic circles over the skin of her waist._

_Her grinding grew faster, her kisses more desperate, hungrier, messier. She was burning._

_‘Marinette…’_

_She exhaled._

_‘Marinette…’_

_She yelped._

_‘Marinette…’_

_‘Chat…’_

“MARINETTE.”

The blinding light of a phone torch burnt into her pupils when Marinette opened her eyes. It took her a moment to adjust and realise that none other than her _best friend_ held the treacherous object to her face.

She blinked, groggy, and haphazardly waved her hand in front of her to push the evil device away.

She still felt numb, incredibly wet between her legs, and reality was hard for her to grasp in that moment. The burning sensation in her pelvis pulsed, lingering, and she grunted, shoving her face in her pillow.

“What time is it, Alya?”

“Too early to be woken by your kicking and twisting,” the brunette whispered, sighing. “We _share_ this blanket.”

Marinette groaned. “I’m sorry, please just stop blinding me.”

“Apology accepted… As long as you don’t mess with the blanket again.”

There was a moment of silence during which Alya turned off her phone and laid back on the mattress, right next to Marinette. It didn’t last very long, but it was enough for her to completely lose sleep. Rolling over, Marinette fixated an invisible dot on the white ceiling.

“Whatever nightmare you were having,” Alya whispered finally, “was one hell of a nightmare.”

A cold feeling entrapped Marinette’s whole body in that moment, and she froze.

_One hell of a nightmare?_

_That was putting it mildly._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're reading this now, that means you are a brave and great person because this so-called smut you just witnessed took me a whole week to piece together because of all the naivety it required.  
> I will not hide that this is probably the worst smut I've ever had to write (I mean, can you believe how hard it is not to mention a single boner), but Marinette is a small inexperienced bean and that's how far she gets with naughty dreams.  
> But you're reading these notes over here and you now know there is much much much better for you to expect!
> 
> Special thanks to megatraven for beta-reading this piece of junk for me <3  
> HUGE THANKS TO LADYSERENDIPITOUS FOR BEING THE ABSOLUTE BEST ML MUSE  
> Big thanks to the whole mlfanfiction team for their never-ending support in all sectors (And I /mean/ all sectors)  
> Grateful yodel to Priya (rhapsodyinpink) for the title!! And to sarahcada for, believe it, helping me with the summary! <3
> 
> And... Thank /you/ for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

Sex dreams happened. It was normal.

_His hands were trailing up her sides, claws tingling her skin as they traced their way higher and higher, painfully slowly. Painfully hypnotising._

It was no big deal; just hormones.

_It was her ankles first, then the sensitive spot behind her knees and the wide expanse of her thighs. He lingered there the longest._

It was normal, all very normal. She was a teenager after all...

_He smirked and her heart jolted in her chest. She could feel the curve of his lips against her neck when he moved, for her hazed mind couldn’t make out much._

No need to panic.

_Her breath stopped in her throat when his fingers slid further up her inner thigh, hovering tauntingly over her core, refusing to touch her even as she gasped in eagerness._

Absolutely no need to panic.

_She yelped when the tip of his claw grazed her sensitive bud. It had been fast, almost too fast, and terribly intended._

Yeah, definitely no need to panic.

“Ladybug?”

Marinette snapped out of her trance, swiftly turning to her partner.

Her heart was beating fast, racing the flow of thoughts that were flooding her mind from every pore.

She had turned around out of reflex, but when she met the emerald gaze of her partner, she regretted instantly.

She hadn’t been ready.

Not that there’d been a time when she _was_ ready to face him since the Sleepover™.

No pep-talk had prepared her enough to the ocean of fantasies that had washed over her when her eyes had laid on her _best friend_ on the next patrol.

Or any of the others for that matter.

Correction: She didn’t even need him to be _there_ to actually _daydream about him_.

Needless to say, she was ashamed.

Sex dreams happened.

But that was the thing.

They happened, and disappeared as fast as they came.

They didn’t linger in your mind, pop up at the most unexpected moments, or distract you from important patrols.

Except when your oblivious partner didn’t know anything of your inner turmoil and behaved the way he always did around you.

Meaning extremely, awfully, painfully physically close.

Her heart threatened to stop the moment Chat Noir looked into her eyes, face inches from hers as he examined her for any kind of symptoms.

“Are you sure you’re okay, my Lady?” he asked, pressing the back of his finger against her forehead.

She cleared her throat and jumped off the parapet she was standing on, meaning to draw a respectable distance between her and her partner.

“Y-Yes,” she stuttered, crossing her arms over her chest. “I was just a bit distracted because of… Uh… School work.”

“School work, huh?”

Her back was facing him, so she couldn’t see his face, but his smirk was so audible it took her effort to suppress the shiver than ran down her spine at the mental memory of how gorgeous it looked on his face.

 _That’s my best friend, my partner, my goofy totally_ **_not_ ** _bangable partner._

_My crush is Adrien Agreste._

“You’ve been standing on the parapet for so long I was afraid you’d fall down,” Chat said. “Not that I’d mind having the privilege of saving you. After all, I only long to be your knight in shining armour.”

The sentence was cheesy; as cheesy as a Chat Noir pickup line could possibly be.

And yet his voice sounded more arousing than it should have, huskier, metamorphosed by her own rêverie. She could almost feel his breath in her ear, sizzling, even though he stood feet away from her.

“As if I needed any saving.”

Marinette had lied a lot since she became Ladybug.

Countless little white lies and more consequent inventions that had become automatic over time, guilt for them long dead and gone. For they served a noble cause.

But right there, standing on that roof in the middle of the night with Chat Noir, Marinette knew that the words that escaped her lips were the most blatant lie she’d ever said.

_‘We could play the princess and the knight. Won’t you call out for my saving?’_

“You like this game,” Chat said.

“What?”

She turned around and realised that he had moved closer to her at some point, though he still stood at arm’s length. His arms were crossed over his chest and he looked genuinely amused, head slightly tilted as if he was studying a strange specimen.

Something flickered in his gaze when he saw her flushed face, but it had been so brief Ladybug wondered if she’d imagined it.

“Playing with my heart.” His voice trailed on the last word, shifting to merely a murmur. He frowned, and there was a pause during which neither spoke.

The wind blew between them, desperate to fill the sudden silence, and though it felt cold against Ladybug’s cheek, she couldn’t have been burning more than this. She took a deep breath.

It was Chat who eventually broke the dead air. “Are you sure you’re not sick?”

Here stood her escape door, radiating a blessed halo of safety. She barely hesitated, bolting across the threshold and slamming it closed behind her.

“Y-Yeah,” she stammered. “I-I think I might be sick. Maybe I should go back home.”

The worry that painted his green eyes was a painful sight, but she decided that it was better than the arousing pride that ignited them at times.

He nodded and put a hand on her shoulder. His touch was burning, and the churning that nibbled at her insides was devouring. She squeezed her legs together, counting the seconds until she could leave.

_1, 2, 3, 4…_

“Take care of yourself, Ladybug, okay?”

_5, 6, 7, 8…_

The numbers kept the thread of her thoughts steady.

Because the mind controls the body, and the body should not, under any circumstances, control the mind.

 _9, 10, 11, 12_ …

She smiled and nodded back.

“Take care of yourself too, kitty.”

The moon hung heavily above her glass trapdoor when she finally let go of her transformation. She laid on her bed, staring at the silvery globe in the sky as she reminisced that day’s patrol.

Her arousal had long ebbed away, withering in the cold of the night; crumbling with each step she took over the parisian rooftops and vanishing under the sound of the klaxons and the chatter as if it had never been. She’d stopped a few times to sit on the ledge of the parapets overlooking the dim glittering lights of the city.

Ever since she’d become Miraculous Ladybug, observing the city below her had always helped her putting her mind in order, a much needed order.

She’d never sat at her balcony to look at the Seine stretching below her before, at the lights that reflected on the dark waters of the river, even if she could.

She didn’t care that much about Paris before.

But now, the capital was her secret garden, the one she shared with all and none.

She liked to sit on the grey tiles of the roofs and speak to the centuries old stone about her day, how she felt, what bothered her. Though she could speak that way to anything in her room too, though she could write her feelings down in her diary, having the city listen to her in the heart of the night felt comforting.

And so she had sat down on the roof tiles, stared at the immensity of Paris and let the wind wash away the thoughts she shouldn’t have, for they were wrongly directed. It occurred to her that whoever said the subconscious was never wrong was terribly misguided, and as she stared at the moon above her, mind devoid of lust and fantasies, she knew that she didn’t love Chat Noir.

Because sex and love were separate concepts.

She _craved_.

And her craving had decided to take the face of Chat Noir because he was the closest to her.

_I love Adrien Agreste, but I’ve been keeping him away from my lust for so long that my body invents its own fantasies, with whatever it finds._

* * *

 “I can’t believe he cancelled again.”

Marinette had to move the phone away from her ear to keep her best friend from destroying her eardrum.

“You sound more disappointed than I am.”

“Of course I’d be,” Alya retorted. “I had to negotiate for hours with Nino to convince him to free his Friday evening to go to the cinema. Do you have a single idea of how holy Fridays are for Nino? All for the sake of Love.”

There was a silence.

And then.

“Love who _cancels_ in the face of his friends’ sacrifices.”

Hadn’t she been so disappointed herself, Marinette would’ve laughed at her friend’s dramatics.

But that was the thing.

It _wasn’t_ so dramatic.

Though they’d known Adrien’s tight schedules for three years now, they’d carefully planned this outing a month ago to make sure it’d fit the model’s timetable. But Adrien’s puberty had been a positive boost for Gabriel’s sales and the young model was having even busier schedules than before.

Modeling agencies were fighting over Adrien Agreste left and right, all eager for the rising star of the fashion world to represent their brands.

The teenager hardly found time for _homework_ anymore, and had faced the threat of going back to homeschooling several times. Though Alya, Marinette, Nino and even, against all odds, Chloé had fought claws and teeth to help him keep up with school, it was difficult considering how all of them had diverged towards different tracks.

Alya was now following a literature track while Chloé had chosen the economic one. Marinette, on the other hand, had preferred applied arts where she’d gladly met Nathaniel, whom she hadn’t been with since middle school.

Adrien, on his part, had bravely soldiered on down the road of the sciences despite the threatening volume of work it implied. However, the fact Nino had picked the same track was a relief for everyone.

Their schedules didn’t always match up, but the old group of friends kept in touch, organising outings every chance they got.

Adrien tried his best to attend, but it had been a long time since anyone had heard from him, aside from the weekly skype calls they insisted upon.

“Are you meaning to tell me that you were, under no circumstances, planning on making out with Nino during the film?” Marinette asked, trying to hide her chagrin behind a quip.

There was a sound of fabric crunching, Alya’s breath against the mic of the phone, and Marinette guessed her friend had switched positions on her bed.

“I may have considered it if it encouraged you and Adrien to follow our lead,” Alya said finally. “I mean, it’s been three years, Marinette.”

The brunette bit her lip and pushed her foot against the edge of her desk to get her chair spinning.

“I know,” she said with a sigh. “But I…”

She _what_?

“You have to tell him sooner or later, Mari. We’re already struggling to meet up with him outside of school.. How do you think it’ll be when we graduate next year?”

“I’ll tell him before.”

“Your call, girl.”

Alya was right.

In the three years since she’d met Adrien, she had never been able to be more than the supportive sometimes goofy friend to him. She _was_ a good friend of his, but hardly anything more despite the many attempts Alya and Nino enacted to hook them up together.

It didn’t help that she hadn’t found it in herself to get into other relationships even when the prospect of going out with Adrien had become more and more improbable with each new contract the model signed.

That was the core of her whole sexual fantasies problem.

Masturbation wasn’t even a solution anymore at this point.

Marinette let out a sigh and stood up, now pacing in her room.

“I really should tell him,” she said. “The worst case scenario that could happen would be me moving on and finally having a decent sexual life.”

Her friend chuckled. “Have you ever thought of sex friends?”

“ _ALYA_.”

“What?” The brunette asked, barely hiding her amusement. “I’m serious.”

“I can’t just go to someone and say hey wanna have sex with no feeling whatsoever?”

“Now you’re making it sound barbaric,” Alya commented, and Marinette could imagine her shaking her head in disapproval. “I’ve been sex friends with Nino for a long time now.”

“You and Nino are definitely not an argument.”

Alya laughed. “I’m teasing you, I know you’re too sentimental for that. But think of it as an exchange of mutual services. An evolved version of sex toys; they can _talk_.”

Marinette couldn’t stop the giggle that escaped her lips.

“You’re ridiculous, Alya.”

She didn’t hear her friend’s answer when her attention shifted on the sudden knock that came from her glass trapdoor. She frowned in suspicion.

“Hold on, Alya, I’m gonna call you back.”

She slipped her phone in her back pocket and carefully moved towards the stairs that led to her bed. She didn’t climb them right away, instead leaning to get a better sight of the figure that stood at the glass window.

The intruder seemed to want her attention; immediately moving to knock again, and this time, she recognised the blonde tuft that crowned their head.

Her first instinct was to roll her eyes.

Her second was to realise that if she opened her trap door, he would sit on the very same bed where she’d been fantasising about him.

Her third thought was that he was visiting her for the first time since the Sleepover™.

She remained immobile for a bit too long because he knocked again, louder this time, and she gulped before pulling the trapdoor open.

“Princess did my arrival leave you speechless?” Chat asked with a chuckle, graciously slipping inside the room.

It only felt natural that Marinette hit him on the back of his head.

“Silly kitty, I was actually disappointed,” she complained, sighing audibly. “You’re putting a sudden halt to my holidays away from you.”

“Love you too, Princess.”

She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest and making it a point not to cross the superhero’s gaze.

He didn’t seem to notice, walking past her to lie down on her bed, eyes seemingly everywhere but her.

“I couldn’t stand not visiting my biggest fan,” he spouted proudly.

“Should I read _visit_ as _annoy_?”

“Blatant unfounded accusations.”

Chat Noir had started visiting her frequently by the time Adrien started getting busy, which was a year ago.

The first time he’d come to her house was during Alix’s Halloween party. There had been an Akuma attack.

Marinette hadn’t been able to transform due to the panic that had suddenly taken over the whole place, and if not for Chat Noir, she’d probably have been crushed by the alarmed guests who were rushing the exit.

She had feigned a twisted her ankle so that Chat would put her down the farthest possible from the tumult so she could transform safely and away from public eyes.

She hadn’t expected him to show  up at her balcony later on that night, asking about her ankle.

“Are you seriously trying to defend the indefensible?” Marinette asked, leaning against the wooden wall.

“I’m not trying,” Chat retorted. “I _am_. And I’m doing a marvelous job at it.”

Marinette giggled. “You’re an idiot.”

She nearly forgot all about her fantasies until her eyes found him lounging there, their familiar banter keeping the lewd thoughts at bay

Her heart skipped a beat when she saw the smirk his lips were pulling.

He seemed to drown in her duvet, the stripes that ran over it making his presence even more tangible, his body even more solid. His blonde locks stood out against the black and white fabric, twisting in perfect short curls she could imagine herself play with in painful realism. His emerald eyes were staring mischievously at her, and his smirk… Well it didn’t really look the way she’d imagined.

It was more open-mouthed than her fantasy had led her to believe, showing the beginning of his molars on one side only, where the corner of his lips stretched. It was boyish, arrogant, and imperfect. But oh so terribly taunting and challenging.

It held a silent “ _So you think you can beat me?”_ aura that had her heart beating faster in her chest, adrenaline racing down her veins and into her brain, making her dizzier by the minute.

She instantly turned away and went to sit on the step of the stairs, wrapping her arms around herself as if she was cold. She forced herself to take a deep breath and then opened her eyes.

Her gaze rested on the Adrien Agreste posters that covered her bedroom wall, and a sudden bubble of guilt lodged itself in her throat.

_Really, Marinette?_

She was fantasising over someone she’d never love instead of running after the boy she’d been mad for over the past three years.

This was getting ridiculous.

“Princess?”

Chat’s voice sounded worried in her ears, but she didn’t turn to look at him. She felt him move closer because the bed creaked under his weight as he stood up and walked towards the stairs where she sat.

She remained stiff.

“Is there something wrong?”

The words escaped her lips before she could stop them.

“Yeah, actually, a _lot_ of things are wrong. Starting with the fact that I’ve been crushing on a boy for three years and haven’t even been able to tell him yet.”

That was true.

 _More_ than true; quite literally the core of her problem.

And as if the whole universe had only waited for her to open her mouth, words poured out like a tidal wave, unable and unwilling to stop.

“I should be over him, right? I mean, he never notices me the way I want him to. I shouldn’t care anymore, right? But I do! I just stand around like an idiot, comparing him to every guy I come across, but that doesn’t help anything because I’m never satisfied. Do they have his laugh? His kindness? His awkwardness? His… muchness… ? _No_. Of course they don’t. And the end result… I’m seventeen and I’ve never been in a single relationship.”

She bit her lip and rested her chin on her forearms before allowing herself to continue.

Her gaze had wandered uncomfortably to her divan, counting the white dots that peppered it, and she folded her toes inside her ballerina flats.

“It’s tiring. Physically tiring.”

Silence radiated between them for a moment.

She didn’t expect Chat to answer, or say or do anything, really, but it felt good to empty her chest to someone, instead of her diary.

To _know_ that she was being listened to.

The sadness remained, filling her chest despite everything, but no tears stung the back of her eyes or threatened to stream down her cheeks. She couldn’t quite put her finger on what she was feeling, but talking had allowed her not to fall deeper into it.

“I get you,” Chat finally said.

His voice was low, hoarse with unavowed feelings. It was little more than a whisper, but not quite loud enough, as if he was talking to himself. He sounded...genuine.

It surprised Marinette that Chat’d have any such troubles.

After all, he was _Chat_.

Her charming partner.

He moved to sit by her side on the stairs, but she didn’t turn her head to look at him. She couldn’t bear to look him in the eye yet, afraid of the storm that would crest inside of her at the sight of whatever gleamed in his eyes.

Not that it was the time and place, but the bittersweet tenderness of his voice was arousing.

“I kind of have the same thing,” he said. “This… Girl who I’ve been in love with for a very long time but who won’t look at me as more than a friend.”

“I never thought Chat Noir would have love issues,” Marinette commented with a dry laugh.

He made an amused sound, though there was no heart in it either. “I’d be offended to know that you think me predictable.”

“Good point.”

Again, silence settled, but it wasn’t uncomfortable.

Although, it was surprising to be around Chat Noir and have anything but noise.

When she was Ladybug, there was always the wind to whistle in their ears, or the klaxons to chirp through the parisian traffic jam. But now, in Marinette’s bedroom, with all the windows closed, not even the hubbub of the bakery broke the silence.

But it wasn’t so bad.

Nor was it empty.

It was full of unspoken words and mutual understanding. Bittersweet understanding.

The kind of understanding she only had with Chat Noir.

She didn’t really feel the need to ask further about Chat’s crush, because it occurred to her that she knew exactly what he felt, and who his crush was really didn’t matter in that instant.

“How long have you loved your friend?”

It took him a few seconds to answer. “Three years.”

“Is it painful?” she asked, biting her lip. “I mean… The longing.”

“Wanting to hold her in my arms? Yes. But it’s not the only thing I crave for.”

She rose an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” he started, and she felt him move to scratch the back of his head. “I fell in love with her because of what she brought into my life, something I don’t think I can live without now. She brought me strength, happiness, hope. A lot of hope. She makes everything better, though she insists on giving way more than she takes. Every single time. She’s not perfect at all, but I fell in love with her light and nothing manages to make me feel otherwise. Not even her. Definitely not her. And then… Well, months have passed now, and I, well, I grew up and the longing became more physical and I… ?” He cleared his throat, clearly embarrassed now. “I don’t know how to explain it.”

“You crave her sexually,” Marinette worded for him. She felt him crumble beside her and his embarrassment made her smile. “I feel the same.”

She felt his gaze on her, stunned, but she kept on staring at the dots on her divan, hypnotised.

“It’s weird, and very annoying,” she elaborated. “It falls upon you at the best and worst times, and I hate it a lot. But it’s there. Right?”

He didn’t answer, but his silence was eloquent enough. At least, that was what she wanted to believe.

Now that doubt had settled on the ruins of her amusement, she awkwardly knotted her fingers together and tried to hide her uneasiness by squeezing her palms.

Maybe she’d gone too far.

But he spoke at last.

“It’s embarrassing but… Yes,” he muttered. “It’s getting harder and harder to control myself around her anymore. Especially since we’re very close friends. We’re almost constantly at less than arm’s length of each other and she’s always cheeky and her quips are driving me insane with all kinds of thoughts and I just…”

“... Can’t even look him straight in the eye anymore,” Marinette finished.

Yes, she knew exactly that feeling.

A thought echoed in her head in that instant, and she bit her lip. It wasn’t a bad idea, but the prospect of voicing it was mortifying. The whole _concept_ terrified her.

“Do you…”

She stopped, unsure, and felt her face flush.

This was definitely a stupid idea.

How did one suggest what she was about to without wanting the floor to swallow them?

“What?” Chat asked.

“N-No, nevermind… I just…”

She took a deep breath.

The conversation had gone this far already, and though they could easily switch topics and pretend nothing ever happened, the thought of yet another useless fantasm about her best friend annoyed her.

After all, she didn’t have anything to lose. She could make it look like a joke.

_Be practical, Marinette. Not sentimental._

She thought of how she was going to pleasure herself that night, and how better it would be to have Chat Noir with her. Of how satisfying her fantasies would probably put an end to them.

It would be a win-win situation, right? There would be no feelings allowed.

She could almost hear Alya’s voice in her head, and when she spoke again, it almost felt like an out of body experience.

“You say you love her, right?”

She felt Chat tense next to her. “Yes.”

“More than anything, and without a single hope that you’d love anyone as much as you love her, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“But you have this craving and you can’t go to her, for whatever reason. My case is time.”

“It’s mine too.”

“Right. And we both love someone immensely, both understand the conditions of such a love. We’re the same broken halves, am I correct?”

“Yeah,” he answered after a moment.

That was when Marinette finally looked at him, and when her blue eyes met the vibrant green of his, they sizzled with determination. Her heart was beating fast, but for the first time since the Sleepover™, it was something completely different from the arousal she’d grown used to.

His eyes widened and, before she could lose her bravery, she declared:

“Let’s benefit each other.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go!  
> Chapter 2 of NFA is out. I'm glad it is to be honest, because I've been trying to sneak write it for 2 weeks in the middle of college work.  
> I WANT TO SHOUTOUT TO ALL OF THOSE WHO HELPED ME WITH IT? First the mlfanfiction staff for helping me brainstorm through it, and second to those who accepted to beta this for me :)
> 
> I also want to throw in here that apothescarie, I love you with all my might. I'm flower armed.
> 
> Lastly, thank /you/ for your support and all your comments! They brighten my day and I'm so glad I have you, readers. I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which pressure's good for the soul... Unless it's not.
> 
> (At least according to blancfortune ;) )

“Let’s benefit each other.”

The sentence hung in the air for what felt like ages, neither of them mustering the courage to speak up.

Marinette had expected the silence.

Of course she had.

But expecting and witnessing were two different things that rarely gave a positive result.

And that was why she was now staring into his emerald eyes and feeling her confidence falter with each ticking second.

_This was the worst idea I’ve ever had._

It wasn’t long before her partner opened his mouth to answer, but he made no sound. Instead, he closed his mouth, opened it again, and repeated the motion until, at last, he managed to utter:

“Okay.”

That was all Marinette needed to crumble.

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean it _that_ way, I’m so, so sorry if I offended you,” she blurted, gesturing in panic.

She laughed nervously but couldn’t bear looking at the boy beside her, fixating instead on the wall behind him. She was too engrossed in the mess she’d gotten herself into to notice the confusion painted all over his face the more she justified herself. Her heart was rushing, stumbling in the middle of a blind race, determined to run faster and faster no matter how much Marinette begged for it to slow down. It was kind of like those cartoons where the protagonist ridiculously ran away from the villain. Daffy Duck proved it useless, but her heart seemed to have taken no note of that fact as it scuttled in her chest, pulling after it waves of crippling panic.

“I-I mean what k-kind of person would I be?” she stammered. _Dear ground, I beg you to swallow me._ “B-Benefit is ahem… Definitely not what you think! I-I mean I’m your friend, n-nothing more! And uhm… I o-offer you my _friendship_ , right? Haha _sex friends_ , what a stupid concept! I wouldn’t stoop this low, _right_?”

In all honesty, Marinette had no idea what she was hoping to achieve with her gibberish. Yet, it didn’t seem to stop the flow of messy apologies that escaped her mouth. Chat’s face fell and only when their eyes finally met did she notice the crimson that stood out under his pale skin. His blush was even redder in the middle of his golden locks and behind his inky mask. She stopped in the middle of her hocus-pocus, catching her breath.

_I messed up so bad._

Chat’s widened eyes peered into her, painted with confusion and… shock? That didn’t make anything better, and Marinette had difficulty gulping when he opened his mouth to speak.

“Wait… Sex friends?”

That was it. Marinette was never going to listen to her dumb brain _ever_ again. She was going to enter a convent to atone for her sins, pour the entirety of her university savings to charity causes, donate her clothes, and probably start an association for flies’ protection. Bad karma was the only possible explanation for this whole farce.

She could hardly decide which of the both of them had the most flushed face, but whatever the current situation was, Chat couldn’t be more ashamed than she was right now.

“I’m so sorry,” she squeaked, burying her face in her hands.

Silence stretched, terribly long and uncomfortable. Marinette refused to look her partner in the eye, couldn’t talk, but a terrifying bubble was forming in her stomach. What outcome did she exactly want from this whole thing?

 _Except for dying_ , she thought bitterly.

The biggest part of herself was lost in a pitch black fog, not knowing  what to expect, what to do. The smallest part of her was screaming that whatever happened, she’d be devastated if Chat Noir left without saying a thing, to do anything to keep him by her side on that stair. Even if she knew that whatever happened, she’d see him as Ladybug anyway, tomorrow and the day after. Everyday.

In that very instant, she dreaded the moment she wouldn’t feel his heat beside her anymore.

And yet, she didn’t know what to do, or if she even wanted to do anything.

A chuckle tore her from her thoughts, and the familiar sound of it made her heart jolt. She carefully looked up at him and noticed he had turned away, eyes focused on the rest of the room below. He wasn’t looking at her, but the corners of his mouth curled into a small smile that made Marinette immediately feel better, almost forget her worry. Like everything was okay.

Chat Noir always lessened the gravity of everything.

“So what benefit do you exactly offer, Marinette Dupain-Cheng?”

There was a second during which Marinette was taken aback.

Here he was, reaching his hand out for her, offering to pull her out of the grave she dug herself. She should be jumping on the occasion to fix everything. Say ‘Benefit of confiding in me, because I’m your friend.’

After all, that was the easiest course of action. What she hoped for.

Right?

She could take his hand and climb out of her tomb.

Or… pull him with her, and she hated herself for being so capricious.

He seemed intent on not looking back at her, arms stretched between his legs in a casual manner, except maybe for the way he held his hands together like he’d hold a saviour’s hand. She looked at her own hands, at her own fingers intertwined in a similar manner. Suddenly, it wasn’t really a matter of pleasuring herself, or putting an end to her fantasies. It was something else, the very core of her uncertainty.

Pushing her limits and breaking her boundaries. Without the mask.

She bit her lip, and her exhale filled the silence.

“Sexual benefit,” she said finally, and a glance towards her partner revealed the way his muscles suddenly tensed under the leather of his suit.

He took a deep breath. “Okay, I… initially thought it was about confiding in each other,” he chuckled nervously. “But it ah, it makes sense considering your previous speech.”

She mirrored his laugh, filled with the same apprehension, but now wasn’t the time to back off.

“I mean you can still say no,” she stressed. “I don’t want this to stand between us or make you uncomfortable around me.”

When he didn’t answer, she added, “There won’t be any feelings allowed, I promise.”

“I know,” he sputtered a little too abruptly. “I mean, I know what… What sex friends are.”

Marinette breathed and turned away, playing with the little bowties of her ballerina shoes. She didn’t add anything further for fear of sounding too pressuring. After all, it was _not_ an easy conversation. For either of them.

But she made a choice, and she was intent on committing to it.

Finally, she heard Chat exhale, then she felt him stand up. He didn’t move immediately, one foot on the platform, a hand on the railway. He seemed to contemplate what to say, if it was worth saying anything at all, and the instant barely lasted seconds.

It felt like even less before he walked to her bed without a word.

Marinette didn’t move the entire time, nor did she look at him. She only sat there, gaze fixated on her shoes. She didn’t say anything, even when she heard the familiar creaking of her bed and the sound of her glass trapdoor open and close.

There wasn’t any need for it.

The only proof that Chat Noir had ever even been in her room was the scent of leather and musk he always left behind.

* * *

 “And this is how aliens abducted the President of the Republic.”

“I totally agree.”

“Man, it’d be easier if you just admit you weren’t listening.”

Nino Lahiffe crossed his arms and let out a sigh when his friend looked up at him, slightly offended.

“Of course I was listening,” Adrien assured, frowning.

“You do know that aliens don’t exist then, right?”

“Aliens what?”

Nino rolled his eyes, amusement plastered all over his face. “Exactly what I said.”

The culprit grunted and rubbed his face, laughing a bit. “Okay, okay, I admit I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Here! Wasn’t that hard,” said a smug Nino before sitting on Adrien’s desk.

Three years ago, Adrien would’ve been shocked. After all, tables weren’t meant for people to _sit_ on them. Especially when chairs were everywhere around them, and school was supposed to be a place of order. But now was now and not only did the aspiring DJ become Adrien’s best friend, but he worked hard to shatter all the clichés the model had brought with him when he’d first arrived at the Collège Françoise Dupont. One after the other, all pictures of studious young people learning together in harmony and filled with the thrill of learning new things everyday fell apart. It had been replaced by new, more realistic pictures of fed up students, cheating, chattering, tying and breaking bonds, destroying school equipment...

Adrien had learnt all of that soon enough, but he wasn’t complaining. The experience of observing the world he never managed to fully be part of had always been enthralling. It was a breath of fresh reality in the middle of his photoshoots and international events, reminding him that he was Adrien before being Adrien Agreste. Just a normal teenager.

So instead of chastising Nino, he simply moved his friend’s leg away from his side of the desk and put down his pencil case.

Truth be told, he _was_ distracted. Ever since that day at Marinette’s.

He wasn’t sure what worked him up the most. The whole offer? The fact it came from sweet Marinette? Or that one reason he had trouble admitting to himself. The fact that she’d been utterly, terrifyingly right.

Well, he’d admitted that he was physically strained. What drove him exactly? He couldn’t tell. He’d never even admitted that to himself, let alone to someone out loud. Yet, he did to his pig-tailed friend. And the result was the outrageous offer she made, which he should be throwing in some deep corner of his mind, out of it even. Forget that it ever happened.

Except that he was still thinking about it, and that meant he was considering it.

_Come on, Agreste. That’s completely stupid._

“I hope you drew the map due for geography today,” Adrien asked, pulling out his folder from his bag.

Nino rolled his eyes. “We’re in an S track. Who cares about geography when you have maths, physics and science to worry about for the baccalaureate.”

“Geography is important.”

“Geography is coefficient 3,” Nino protested. “Maths are coefficient 7. According to common logic, a good mark in geography won’t save your ass when you fail in maths.”

Adrien scoffed. “Average grades in maths, physics and science can be saved with an excellent geography grade.”

“Adrien, look at me,” Nino said, pointing at himself with a serious face. “Name three streets I could go to without getting lost at least four times.”

“Okay, you have a point,” the blonde conceded, openly laughing now. “But _geography._ ”

“You’re hopeless, pretty boy,” Nino sighed, though he could barely hide the smile that was cracking his face at the moment. “By the way, don’t forget we’re meeting up later with the girls at the Dupain-Cheng bakery. Mari is thrilled to show us her father’s new creampuffs.”

Adrien felt a sudden punch in the stomach at the mention of her name. Of course they had to meet up with her and Alya. It had been planned for weeks, and he couldn’t hide behind yet another meeting to avoid her. It wasn’t in his habits to flee people, not at all. Especially his _friends_ who he hadn’t seen in weeks. He would never.

But for the first time in three years, he wasn’t sure if he was ready to face Marinette. Not yet. Not until he’d come to terms with whatever had happened between them the other day.

_But that’s between Chat and her. Not Adrien and Marinette._

Nevertheless, while she’d act the very same way she always did, kind, sweet Marinette, Adrien would be fidgeting, counting the minutes until he could leave without being rude, avoiding her gaze. And he just couldn’t do it.

“Dude?”

“O-Oh, yeah of course, I didn’t forget,” Adrien muttered. When Nino didn’t reply, he turned around and gave him his best model smile, adding, “I can’t possibly forget that. I miss everyone.”

It did the trick.

It always did the trick.

And when the bell rung, Nino smoothly slipped off the desk to sit on the chair, chatter dying down as the teacher stepped into the room.

 _Sex friends, huh_.

Flashes of a moaning Ladybug filled his head, mental images of dilated blue eyes, soft lips against his, rough fabric under his tongue.

Adrien took a deep breath and closed his eyes in a vain attempt to shoo away the arousal that was building in his groin.

It was ridiculous.

_But maybe it’s the solution to your issues._

He reached for his pencil case, crossing his legs to hide the growing bulge in his pants. Boners weren’t an exceptional event in a boy’s life. Especially a seventeen-year-old one. In fact, they were so frequent that all guys developed various techniques to deal with them over the time, be they wanted or unwanted. It was a natural thing they got used to dealing with.

Adrien let out a sigh and wrote down the day’s date to distract himself. It was usually a simple question of time before he relaxed. He was so used to the sensation of being hard that he barely ever minded.

Except that he couldn’t _not_ mind this time.

Not when the very reason he was aroused was the sexual fantasies that flooded his mind at that very moment. Not when the feeling of his dick against his leg made his mental Ladybug moan louder, the imaginary hold of her hands on his arms tighter. No, he was too aroused to distract himself with French geography and infrastructures.

Operation _let-the-boner-get-the-fuck-away-on-its-own_ was a failure.

It was time to set in motion operation _go-jerk-off-in-the-restroom_.

Adrien suppressed a groan as he raised his hand for the teacher’s attention. He hated sexual fantasies, and one only knew how many he’d had ever since he’d hit puberty. He could control pretty much anything about his arousal, but sexual fantasies were the trickiest part to handle.

He hated them as much as he yearned to make most of them real.

“Adrien?” the teacher asked, interrupting his explanation of globalisation.

“Can I go to the toilet?”

The teacher looked at Adrien for what felt like ages, seemingly contemplating what important parts of the program the model would be missing. Not that Adrien cared at the moment.

He simply wanted to get it over with and relieve his pulsating dick.

Finally, the teacher nodded and Adrien stood up, adjusting his pants to conceal his bulge -yet another manoeuvre only guys would know of. He only started breathing again when he slammed the cabin’s door shut and unbuckled his belt, pressing his burning back against the wooden door.

He closed his eyes and let his mind wander to its fantasies, hand slipping in his boxers to pull out his painful cock.

In his mind, it was Ladybug’s hand, moving up and down its length. He wasn’t trying to hide the erratic pants that escaped his mouth while she watched him, her mischievous, rosy lips curving tantalisingly.

_‘You’re not a very demanding kitty...’_

She twisted her grip on his cock, and he gasped, choking on the moan he couldn’t let out. She ran her tongue over her lips and moved closer to his collarbone, pushing the fabric of his shirt to reveal his neck. When her lips rested on it, he combusted, her hand working faster and faster around his dick, thumb pressing harder than the rest of her fingers on the hardened muscle. He felt hot, and his face was probably flushed from the arousal, sweat dripping down his temples as Ladybug’s lips traced the line of his neck with her tongue, kissing each drop of sweat that trickled down. She chuckled, and the sound almost made him lose it.

He was close.

Way too close.

He took a deep breath, ready for his release, both hands on his dick now, moving in opposite directions as he uncontrollably rocked his hips back and forth. The hinges of the door creaked against his weight, threatening to give him away at any second, but in the haze of his arousal, his deliverance was all that mattered. He felt his heart almost stop as he neared his climax, almost… Until he heard a sudden explosion from outside the building.

His blurred senses flashed with immediate clarity. He froze, one hand on the handle already. There was a second of silence where he didn’t even dare to breathe, the second before a battle when he knew what he had to do but couldn’t move yet.

It was then that he heard the screams and the shrieks, the klaxons howling outside and the brutal creaking of chairs and tables as the classrooms emptied themselves. He pulled up his boxers and rushed outside of the cabin, suppressing a wince at the painful scraping of his balls against the rough fabric of his pants as he ran towards his classroom.

He opened the door with a slam and found his panicking classmates hurriedly gathering their things, some of them just rushing through the door as soon as he opened it. Moving aside, he stepped into the classroom, trying to speak up over the noise of alarmed students.

“Nino, are you okay?” he called, walking to the desk where his best friend was busy shoving copybooks and pens in their bags. “What’s going on?”

Nino looked up at his friend, a shimmer of concern in the eye. “An Akuma attack, from across the street. Everyone’s lost their shit. It’s a mess. We gotta leave.”

Adrien’s only answer was to nod and take the bag Nino was handing him before they both rushed outside, slaloming between the students until they reached the iron doors of the school. Only then did Adrien face the extent of the attack.

Brown fog blurred the street outside, small particles of dirt and asphalt flying around them as they stepped down the stairs. The air was too thick to breath, heavy with dust that stung Adrien’s eyes as he struggled to discern the source of the explosion in the sea of ashes and smoke that surrounded him. Klaxons and alarms were blaring, children were crying. He moved forward, and winced at the crunching sound of broken glass and stone under his shoes.

Even then, the sounds were smothered by the sounds of the blast, made him feel like he was underwater, and though he knew that was a normal reaction to an explosion, he was still slightly taken aback. Coughing, he waved his hand in front of his face and moved forward, finally spotting the crater that had formed in the centre of the road.

It was huge, a cloud of smoke rising from its core as scraps of bitumen trickled down its walls. Pipes were jutting out, pointed towards the sky in an unnatural manner. The water that escaped their broken tips made the fog dissipate here and there, but not enough to let Adrien see the Akuma. If it was ever there.

Glancing around him, he found that the fog was thick enough for Nino or any other passersby not to spot him while he hid to transform. Hiding in a nearby alleyway, he took a deep breath and pulled back his shirt tail to reveal his kwami.

“Plagg,” he said.

“You know it’s usually in these situations that the irony of a spandex hits me the most,” the small creature commented with a smirk.

As if on cue, Adrien’s crotch throbbed. The little flash of pain tore a wince from him, but he grunted: “Just transform me already.”

Saying that an interrupted jerking off session was the worst that could happen to a man was nothing compared to wearing skin-tight clothes over unsatisfied balls.

No.

Adrien could’ve given you a thousand uncomfortable positions, a thousand incredibly awkward situations he’d been in, but in that very instant, nothing topped the pain of having his balls compressed in a spandex suit.

_Nothing._

At first, the pain was negligible, blunted by the dopamine. But as its effect wore off, the ache grew heavier, more difficult to stand, and though it had only been twenty rough minutes since Adrien had left the toilets, he was dreading the escalation of his pain.

Right now, walking straight was an actual effort that took all of his concentration.

And by extension, jumping, running, and dodging was an ordeal.

Unless he could relieve himself, which was all he could think about in that moment.

It was in that state that, ten minutes later, Adrien reached the scene of the disaster. He was heaving slightly, small beads of sweat trickling down his temples when at last he spotted the red-clad figure of his partner, standing on the edge of the crater.

She turned around, and her ocean blue eyes met his, wrinkled by the excited smile that cracked her face. He knew that smile. The one she had whenever the girl behind the mask could be Ladybug, whenever she felt the thrill of adrenaline rush down her veins.

He inhaled, almost forgetting the growing pain in his crotch as she walked towards him, yoyo in hand.

“Kitty, you’re late today,” Ladybug crooned, stopping at less than an arm’s length away. Her expression changed then because she frowned and moved her face closer, scrutinising him. “You’re pale. Are you sick?”

“N-No,” Adrien stammered, moving back as if she’d breathed fire in his face.

She tilted her head, unconvinced, and he hurriedly slammed a smile on his face, taking another painful step back. It was a very delicate situation, because the proximity reminded him of how urgently he ached to relieve himself, and the twinkle in her eyes was too identical to the one in his mental Ladybug’s eyes while he was pleasuring himself.

In a desperate attempt to switch topics, he pointed his chin at the pit behind her.

“So who got their knickers in a twist this time?”

“A plumber, from what I can gather,” she answered, crossing her arms.

He glanced back at her but regretted it immediately. She was biting her lip, looking at the explosion site from the corner of her eyes. It wasn’t something she’d never done in front of him before, and he should’ve been used to how comfortable she was around him. But he was so focused on his crotch that the sight dried his mouth immediately.

_Thirsty. Is that how low you’ve sunk, Agreste?_

He grunted and looked away, moving uncomfortably in his spot. He didn’t have the chance to ask more about the Akuma, or rather he didn’t _need_ to ask more because suddenly he was flying backwards, a shriek escaping Ladybug’s lips as she dodged the surprise attack.

He landed on his feet, hands on the rubble as he rolled backwards. Though the movement had been instinctive, he hissed in pain but looked up almost immediately.

“Ladybug and Chat Noir,” a voice called out from behind the raining gravel.

Adrien coughed, looking at the scene from behind his sclera lenses to finally discern their enemy.

Pipes were jutting out of the ground, but the strangest thing was the fact they _moved_. Quite like Medusa’s snakes, they seemed to obey to the Akuma, striking the broken asphalt threateningly. The ground shook under Adrien’s feet, making it hard for him to stand up. And in the middle of it all stood the Akuma.

The Plumber.

He looked like any other plumber, clothed in a blue jumpsuit and plain white t-shirt, except that his face was hidden behind a white mask that covered his entire face. It was an iron mask, seemingly of the same material as the pipes that were under his command. He held a huge monkey wrench in his hands, much bigger than an axe and probably where the evil butterfly was hiding.

Ladybug landed next to Chat, yoyo ready to strike at any moment. He tried to stand up quickly, legs spread to lessen the pain. He had to fight.

“So what do you think of my charming pipes?” the plumber announced, tapping his wrench on his hands as he stepped towards the superheroes. “I heard it was a curse to be forced to work with them my whole life.”

“I think they should go back where they belong,” Ladybug replied, the shadow of amusement in the voice. “In the ground, safely tucked under a thick coat of sand and asphalt.”

The Plumber huffed, and a pipe struck the spot where Chat and Ladybug were standing. They immediately dodged, but Chat’s landing wasn’t as graceful as Ladybug’s. He stumbled, blinded by the shot of pain that went through his groin. He felt nauseous, and when he looked back at the new pipe that was darting towards him, he inhaled.

_Dear miraculous gods, how am I going to make it?_

* * *

 “I’m pretty sure you should rest,” Ladybug said as they sat on the Elysée’s roof.

Chat groaned. “I’m not sick.”

The fight had been terrible. At least for Chat.

It wasn’t one of the longest, because the Akuma hadn’t been hard to spot, but it had been one of the most exhausting. Especially for Chat.

He usually had little to no problems dodging and actually enjoyed it, but this time it was a pretty special fight. Oh how he’d wanted to rip off his dick at least fifteen times throughout the whole two hours it took them to save Paris and cleanse it from the debris the Plumber had caused.

The worst part was probably when the pipes had started shooting water. There was a difference between being crushed by water on any other day and being crushed by water while having already pressured balls.

Well, at least the cold had lessened the pain.

He sighed, running a hand through his soaked hair. “I just need some rest.”

Ladybug didn’t answer immediately. Didn’t answer at all as she rested her head on his shoulder. He stiffened at the unexpected motion but kept his mouth shut.

The water had made her flowery perfume stronger, and the wind of the late afternoon mixed it with the scent of trees and after school croissants. He could smell coffee from a window below, probably from a civil servant working overtime.

He didn’t really know why he was lingering more than he should. Though the fact neither of them had used their Lucky Charm or Cataclysm that day had allowed them to stay transformed a little bit longer. There was no more threat, and he was free to pick up where he’d left off. After all, he had suffered enough to last him a lifetime. But right then, with Ladybug’s head trapped in the hollow of his shoulder and the cool air that softly blew in his hair, he didn’t want to move.

He exhaled and let his head fall on Ladybug’s, her silky black hair brushing against his cheek. It felt alright there.

It always felt alright with Ladybug by his side.

_‘You say you love her, right?’_

_‘Yes.’_

_‘More than anything and without the hope that you’d love anyone as much as you love her, huh?’_

Marinette’s voice rung in his head, clearer than if she’d been standing right there with him. He’d been more than honest with her that day.

He loved Ladybug.

But for some reason, he didn’t feel that happy.

It felt alright to have Ladybug by his side in that instant.

But he wasn’t happy.

The whole scene unfolded before him, with its birds flying in the distance and the Eiffel Tower standing tall in the distance. It was a sight he’d witnessed almost everyday for the past three years. The same sounds, the same monuments. Many would’ve found it boring.

But what Adrien had always loved the most was the sensation of standing on the rooftops with the wind in his hair and the certitude that Paris belonged to them, and they belonged to Paris.

It was a beautiful sight, a gorgeous sight people from all over the world paid to see.

But to him, it was bittersweet.

Too full of memories and happiness that seemed to promise more past than future. Maybe that was why it was easier to hear the city whisper past stories through the stone, why the murmur of today’s Parisians was almost always drowned under that of history.

It made him sad, because Paris reminded him of Ladybug, and Ladybug was the one he couldn’t have.

It was difficult for him to pin the exact reason.

Respect? Lack of courage? Or that biting certitude that she belonged to something else? Something greater?

“Chat?”

He jolted out of his reverie, glancing at his partner. He’d forgotten her existence. Or rather associated it too much to the scenery to remember she could actually _talk_.

“Sorry,” he sputtered. “I was out of it for a sec.”

She laughed. “Clearly.”

She straightened her back, folding her leg on the tiles to turn her body towards him.

“I was thinking of a way to cheer you up.”

“My Lady,” he purred, feeling a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Your very presence is more than enough to cheer me up.”

“Ha ha, very funny, chaton,” Ladybug commented, rolling her eyes.

There was a twinkle in her eyes, a flash that Chat noticed a second too late. Maybe he could’ve dodged if he’d been quicker.

Suddenly, he was lying on the ground, back pressed against the uneven tiles and the gravel, a pair of ocean blue eyes staring into his, corners wrinkled from the huge beam on his partner’s face. His own eyes widened, and he caught his breath when she closed the distance between their two bodies, her left hand slithering down his arm, tantalising, achingly slow.

The sensation shot a wave of arousal in his groin once again, reminding him of his fantasies from earlier that day.

That was bad. Very bad.

But he was frozen on the spot, unable to move. He didn’t know if he wanted to. Didn’t know if he’d be able to restrain himself if he ever did. He normally could, but right then, he couldn’t.

And it made him even more excited.

He exhaled, and something in Ladybug’s eyes switched, made them unfocused for a second. His gaze had probably betrayed him. She parted her lips and time seemed to freeze right then and there, stretching endlessly as neither of them moved.

Or so Adrien thought.

Ladybug’s mouth suddenly curved, morphing into the smuggest grin he’d ever seen on her face. Her hand moved fast, finding his ribs before he could even protest. He gasped when she rubbed the tip of her fingers against his side, twisting and squirming instantly as she tickled him harder and faster.

“N-No!” he exclaimed, trying to turn around to free himself.

She laughed, reluctant to let him go, and put her whole weight on him, running her other hand on his hip as he vainly tried to escape her treacherous fingers. He was laughing too, giving it his all to make his red-clad friend lose her balance. She was particularly resistant, clinging to him like a lifebuoy as he wriggled out of her grip. When he finally switched positions with her, she didn’t look sorry in the slightest.

There was a silent challenge in her eyes, and he buried his face in her neck, blowing on the juncture of her jaw and neck to make her squirm under his body. His claws found the curve of her waist, and he took his revenge, reveling in her crystalline giggle.

“Okay, okay, you win,” she shouted at last, heaving.

His victory had been suspiciously quick, but he still smirked and moved back to study his handiwork. Her cheeks were flushed red, clashing violently with the sky blue of her eyes as she stared back at him. Her gaze was intense, burning as it peered at him. It distracted him, because, suddenly, he was looking _up_ at them again.

He wouldn’t have realised if her knee hadn’t been between his legs, making him jolt when it scraped his groin. His eyes widened and he squirmed to move away.

 _That’s bad_.

The boner had grown instantaneously, stone hard. And he didn’t think he could contain it right then and there.

Ladybug looked at him, puzzled. “Chat, are you okay?”

“Y-Yes I-” he started, at a loss for words.

His miraculous beeped in that instant, and the relief was so strong he felt dizzy for a second. He glanced at his ring, wishing for it not to be an illusion. When the little paw flickered once again, he mentally thanked all the gods for their pity.

“I gotta go,” he said, looking apologetically at his partner. “See you later, Bugaboo.”

He didn’t even bother hearing Ladybug’s answer when he dashed away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally chapter 3 is out. Wow it's only chapter 3? Can you believe how much of a ride it already is.  
> I want to thank every single comment I got! They're just so friggin heartwarming every time?? And believe it or not, they help me cope with college.  
> College? Yep, that's the reason I've been updating so slowly, but I'm honestly trying to make up for it in length.
> 
> I'd like to thank all my guy friends for being so nice and answering all my creepy boner questions. I promise, I've been interviewing them for 2 weeks straight to be as accurate as possible. You can't believe all the fascinating things you learn just by asking (bonus thanks for the toilet idea ;) )  
> Therefore, I'll be thanking Adrien for his HUGE HELP, luciferhimshelf and that one school friend of mine who insisted on being credited (here you go Ali), mainly and among other guys. You rock xD
> 
> I'll also thank thelemonoftheuniverse for helping me come up with the Plumber ida, you're an angel! AND MOST IMPORTANTLY THANK YOU TO MIRACULOUSSTORYTELLING FOR BEING MY WONDERFUL EMERGENCY BETA (Claire, I swear to all the lords you saved my life and your beta is 12/10 just to say)
> 
> EDIT: I saw this one comment that reminded me that I had a link for the French school system I just slammed on you!! And here you go http://miraculousbox.tumblr.com/post/140042768365/french-school-exams


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which all the marichat sinners gather around the campfire and sing a campfire song.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Turns out I was very productive this week and you get the new chapter!  
> Honestly, the marichat fueled me.
> 
> Thank you again for the comments, and the kudos! Thanks to Apothescarie for her wonderful betaing and for just... Being a wonderful friend, honestly.
> 
> It was a pretty difficult chapter for me to write, regardless of all the marichat hype, because the characters are going through a process that is, believe it or not, very hard to handle, very embarrassing, and I just... Well that was an adventure. Let me know what you thought of it, what worked, what didn't work, and get ready, the slowburn trip is only starting!

There are three rules every man knows about jerking off.

First, always lock your bedroom door.

Second, never forget to use earbuds.

Third, masturbation isn’t always enough.

Adrien let himself fall back on the bed, eyes fixated on the ceiling above. Beside him, the stifled moans from his discarded earphones reverberated, tossed aside when he’d neared his climax and hurried to the toilets to relieve himself.

He’d come a lot; more than usual.

Though, it wasn’t a surprise considering the circumstances...

What annoyed him was the fact that for the first time in months, he wasn’t satisfied. It wasn’t a rare thing to happen to men, although the fact didn’t make it any more bearable. He laid there, the familiar lethargy that came after a good wank numbing his limbs and the frustration of _being_ frustrated nagging at him. He felt drunk almost, a budding headache throbbing at his temples.

He let out a sigh.

He wasn’t contented, but this time was fundamentally different from all the others.

He couldn’t ignore the sensation, couldn’t let it drown in the ocean of things he could keep himself busy with. It simply wouldn’t fade away.

Not with that little voice murmuring in his head, steady, determined, and terribly tempting.

_‘Let’s benefit each other.’_

Huh.

_‘Sexual benefit.’_

The deal was simple. Though he’d never been sex friends with anyone before, the concept wasn’t completely foreign to him.

It was… A service.

He glanced at the tangle of earphones by his side and rolled to lock his phone, plunging the room in its usual silence.

Yeah... A service.

Unless he was mistaken.

He laid in his bed for a few silent moments longer before he eventually stood up, pressing his palm against his throbbing forehead. It was then that he strolled to his desk, turning on the huge three-screened computer that sat there. His fingers flew over the keyboard as soon as the screen came to life, lower lip trapped between his teeth as he waited for the search to load.

 _Sex friends (also called friends with benefits or “fuck buddies”)_ _refers to an agreement between two people who are both friends and physically attracted to one another to share a sexual relationship. Although situations differ, most friends with benefits aren't in a committed relationship, and may date and/or have sex with other people. A friends with benefits arrangement is not considered dating, a relationship or even casual dating by most people who use the term. In most cases friends with benefits share common interests and/or sexual experiences, but don't engage in any sort of official dating or romantic behaviors, like celebrating Valentine's Day or meeting the parents._

He uncomfortably looked away from the definition. Yeah. _That_ . Not that he’d been considering the offer-! He was just… _Inquiring_ about the topic.

The lie sounded empty even to him and he groaned, scrolling down the page.

_Friends with benefits differs from a one night stand in that one night stands provide only an evening of sexual interaction, although they may occur between two friends._

The whole offer would be a long-term decision. It wasn’t something either of them should jump into recklessly. Even if it ended up only being a one night stand, it would undoubtedly change their relationship, and he didn’t know if he was ready to sacrifice his friendship with Marinette.

Aside from Ladybug, she was the friend he valued the most as Chat Noir. The only one he could go to without a second thought when he needed somewhere to be as his superhero self.

And though she would never replace Ladybug to him, it didn’t make her any less important.

A frown made its way onto his face.

Marinette.

He’d never been very close to her as Adrien. Without being particularly shy around their classmates, she seemed uncomfortable at best around him. Probably, he assumed, because he was _the_ Adrien Agreste: famous supermodel and son of Gabriel Agreste, who- he knew from his Chat Noir visits- was her favourite fashion designer.

She wasn’t the only only one to blame for their lacking relationship, though.. He’d never really had the chance to get as close to her as he was to Nino, or tried his best to make that fact change. She was his cute and kind friend who tagged along with Alya when Nino would invite her, and he greatly enjoyed her company.

But he’d discovered a thousand other sides to her after they’d parted ways at school, with her following an art centred track, and he a scientific one.

They rarely managed to meet as Adrien and Marinette, but as Marinette and Chat Noir, well, he made the most of the evenings he stole to go and visit her. She relieved the stress that weighed on his shoulders, strikingly similar to the way Ladybug managed to. Ladybug, his best friend, his partner. The girl he was desperately in love with.

He clicked on the previous button and distractedly scrolled down the search.

It was weird to see Marinette in a non-platonic way. In fact, he’d hardly ever considered her a potential love interest before. She was his funny friend who always had a plate of cookies and croissants ready for him and at least two encyclopedias of repartees ready.

He tried to think of a day he’d found her particularly pretty and one memory popped in his mind. It wasn’t a very clear one, rather fuzzy as he never paid much attention before, or maybe chose to forget.

He remembered the slight flutter of his heart when he’d found her one day, sitting on the wooden floor of her room, facing her floor-length mirror near her desk, a dozen of makeup products scattered around her. She’d turned around, as if caught in some sort of forbidden act, and he’d caught his breath at the sight of her. She’d had her hair down, framing her heart-shaped face, vainly gathered behind her ears. A few locks were escaping, but they failed at hiding the red and black makeup that coated her cheeks, eyes and lips. It was a strange scene, though he wondered why he’d found it surprising.

She was bored, and had wanted to try something new, something other than drawing or sewing. So she’d made herself up, drew patterns of black and red on her cheeks, the eyeliner and the mascara made her eyes bigger, their blue more intense, like a spot of sky in a ocean of scarlet and ink. The crimson eyeshadow she’d applied had made her pale skin stand out, made her look like Ladybug in that instant. Gorgeous and powerful. Fiery.

And yet, she’d never stopped being Marinette.

Adrien had compared a lot of girls to Ladybug, seeking despite himself the identity of his partner. He didn’t mean to disrespect her wishes, but he’d given special attention to blue-eyed brunettes. Most of his girlfriends over the years had had those features, which had led the media to label them as his type. _“Adrien Agreste’s type.”_

It made them pool at his feet so easily.

If only they weren’t all so disappointing.

He’d never gone serious with anyone, never even managed to go as far as sleep with them.

He could’ve. He should’ve. Would’ve wanted.

But none of them had had Ladybug’s sass, the twinkle in her eyes as she teased him, untouchable, miles away from him instead of clinging to him, to his name. They didn’t have her crystalline laughter, or her humour. They were in love with the model, the brand. Not the boy.

But in that instant, with that painted mask on her face, little dots drawn on her skin and glittering eyelashes, Marinette had looked like Marinette, and he couldn’t compare her to his Lady, if not for the fire in her eyes as she stared at him. Like he’d stumbled on a star that would’ve fallen from the sky. He’d been afraid to move closer. Afraid she’d fly away.

And yet, his heart had fluttered.

It had fluttered when he’d seen the flicker of surprise that had flashed in her ocean gaze, the way her red lips had parted and how her ebony locks were tumbling over her milky shoulders.

She’d been gorgeous and Adrien suddenly couldn’t keep his mouth from drying at the thought, flushing at the heat that was slowly building in his stomach.

Could he see Marinette as a sexual partner? He exhaled softly, staring at the ring on his finger.

He wasn’t satisfied, doubted he could ever feel satisfied now that he _knew_ he could have more than masturbation.

No. His mind would never let him be.

He closed his eyes and pictured the way Marinette’s hair would feel between his fingers, silky, her lips against his shoulders, devouring, burning. He imagined her crimson lipstick smearing his chest as she ran her tongue over his nipples, her blue eyes peering at him as he touched himself.

He didn’t love Marinette.

But the heaving of his breath and the staccato of his heart were the only answers he needed to know he’d have no problem wanting her.

Ladybug’s smirk as she brushed her leg against his cock earlier flashed in his mind, and he knew.

Marinette wasn’t Ladybug.

But maybe she had the only thing Ladybug wouldn’t be able to help him with.

* * *

 “Chat was weird today.”

Marinette was pacing in her room, playing with the end of her short braid as she talked to the small kwami. Tikki was sitting atop her Chosen’s computer, following her relentless pacing with her deep blue eyes.

“What do you mean?”

It took Marinette a second to remember that Tikki couldn’t know what was happening while transformed. She’d learnt that three years ago, when she’d messed up with Coeur de Pierre for the first time, causing thousands of stone monsters to fill Paris and wreak havoc, and Tikki had asked her what had happened. She had an apologetic smile and leant against the edge of the desk.

“Well… He seemed a bit distracted during the fight,” Marinette recalled. “Or in pain. I think he’s sick, but he keeps denying.”

The kwami made a small noise, studying the piece of information. “Maybe he just had a lot on his mind.”

“Probably…”

He had been very out of it that day, slower in the way he moved and dodged, wincing repeatedly like he was in some sort of pain. It had surprised her, because their suits usually numbed most physical pains and protected them from many kinds of attacks. However, his paleness was something alarming whenever she’d been able to shoot a glance his way, and his panting had been way more noticeable than usual.

It had made her desperate to put an end to the fight, though it wasn’t easy without a fully operational partner.

_Maybe he’s distracted because of your offer._

The little voice in her head had been mocking her ever since Chat had left her house a week ago. He hadn’t come back since, and though she liked to put up a bold front, she actually felt disheartened. She’d hoped she could throw something his way during that day’s roof sightseeing, something to encourage him to go back to Marinette, even as friends only. But she hadn’t been able to gather enough courage, or think of the right words to start the topic.

 _Hey, I think you’ve got a friend who’s dead worried about you, and you should go see her?_ Too creepy.

 _What do you think of sexfriends? Oh you have a friend who offered you benefits?_ Too direct.

 _I feel you have someone to talk to?_ Too vague.

So instead, she’d wrestled him until she’d torn a laugh from him. It was like pulling teeth.

She loved to see her partner happy and relaxed, and she’d honestly thought she’d succeeded- but then he’d suddenly stood up and left, a pained grin pinching his cheeks in all the wrong ways.

She bit her lip and crossed her arms, tapping anxious fingers against her elbow. Maybe she’d pushed it a bit too far.

She was overtly aware that she’d been forward, letting her fantasies control her body until she reminded herself that she couldn’t risk her partnership with her pussycat just to get her _pussy_ eaten.

Ladybug and Chat Noir saved Paris. They didn’t waste their time in useless romances and drama.

She couldn’t deny she’d loved the way his pupils had dilated under her gaze, the glistening of his lips as they parted when they’d both frozen, his strong arms under her petite hands. It had all felt surreal. His heaving chest had rocked her up and down, brushing against the sensitive bud between her legs and the sensation, intensified by her attraction, had almost made her catch her breath.

She wanted it again.

“What if he rejects my offer, Tikki?”

The kwami never got the chance to answer because, speak of the devil and he shall appear, a sudden knock filled the silence of the room. The little creature, after shooting a worried glance in Marinette’s direction, charged through the air to hide away. Mari, on the other hand, raised an eyebrow when she realised the knock didn’t come from her bedroom’s trapdoor.

A thought occurred to her when the visitor knocked again and she glanced up, towards her bed. Her heart skipped a beat.

“Chat?”

She opened the glass trapdoor with a trembling hand, inhaling when she met the emerald gaze of her partner.

They were intense, his pupils behind the sclera darker than usual. He looked tired, and she thought that he probably had eyebags behind his mask. He slipped inside the room without a word, which was unlike the boisterous Chat she’d grown used to over the years. He turned away from her immediately, looking around as if he was taking in the room for the first time.

The silence between them was heavy, tense, and so thick that Marinette could almost hear her drumming heart.

“Hello, Chat,” she said in a small voice, waving awkwardly although he couldn’t see her.

He turned around, looking at her from the corner of his eye. “Hi.”

His voice was hoarse, like he had trouble talking. Marinette couldn’t help the way her eyes widened when she realised that in that moment, Chat’s clammy attitude  was the symptoms of being a nervous wreck. A small tug of guilt pinched at her heart at the idea that perhaps she was the reason behind it all.

He was probably here to tell her that he couldn’t do it, to peacefully cut all ties with her, and all at once she felt nauseous.

He seemed to notice the way her smile had fallen because he turned completely towards her, fists anxiously tapping against the sides of his legs, repeatedly opening and closing his mouth as if he searched for the right words to make it easier.

Marinette didn’t muster the courage to speak up.

“I’m here because I gave your offer a thought,” he said at last, avoiding her gaze. “A really _big_ thought.”

She looked frightened, and it occurred to Adrien that she was probably thinking he was here to reject her offer. Which he’d seriously considered on his way to the Dupain-Cheng bakery.

Why it mattered so much to her, though, was beyond him.

He didn’t like the way her eyes shone in the moonlight, broken and so blue.

He wanted to say something to make her better, but his anxiety had him tongue-tied. At last he took a deep breath, aching in the silence.

“I’m used to handling my frustration. It’s not a big deal. It’s… Nothing uncommon to me,” he spoke. “But your offer ruined it all for me. It keeps coming at me every single time I think I’m good, and it’s been driving me crazy this week.”

He looked away again, nervously scratching the back of his head and he let his gaze wander towards the dozens of pictures displayed on the in-built shelves near Marinette’s bed. He’d seen them all a thousand of times, could name them one after the other, those pictures that were lost between a few novels here and there. There were books from middle school still, given by French teachers to read and which he suspected Marinette had never opened. She wasn’t the reading kind much. Instead, she preferred taking pictures of her friends, drawing her thoughts, her stories. He liked it better that way too. That way, he could have a glimpse of the way her mind saw the world.

“I accept your offer,” he murmured, not looking at her yet.

He heard her inhale, then a little choked noise like she’d meant to talk but lost her words in the middle.

“Oh,” she squeaked. “Oh, I see I uh… I expected you’d say no.”

“I’d planned to say no,” he replied honestly.

She exhaled shakily, and when Chat looked back at her, he noticed she was biting the inside of her cheek. Though the pool of her eyes shone, she was taking it bravely. He knew it was embarrassing for her. He let a comforting smile settle on his lips, even though he was almost as close to having a stroke as she was.

“But your business skills, alas, are absolutely _purrfect_ , Princess. Or maybe you have no scruples using your charms on your knight?”

She blinked, but the way her shoulders relaxed were enough prove that Chat had managed to calm her down. She smiled awkwardly, but smiled nevertheless, and his own grin grew slightly bigger.

“I’ve never done this before though,” he added, clearing his throat. “But I do believe it uh… requires a couple of rules to be set.”

Marinette’s eyes widened, but she recovered quickly enough to cross her arms and shoot a serious gaze his way.

“No feelings allowed.”

He raised an eyebrow behind his mask, and the beginning of a smirk curled the corners of her lips.

“We both love someone else,” she elaborated. “And nothing that could happen between us should in any way interfere with that. I don’t love you, and you don’t love me. Therefore, no feelings will be allowed.”

“And what if they start budding?”

His question had been matter-of-fact. He didn’t expect falling in love with Marinette, nor did he expect her to. One didn’t brush a three-year-old crush like this. But the websites he’d visited had made it clear that the risk always existed, and should be taken care of before the deal was made. The brunette’s eyes widened slightly, but briefly.

“Then let’s choose something to say when we feel one of us is going too far,” she said, finally.

He looked around, searching for a suggestion, a word that would strike them easily. Something easy to remember.

“No feelings allowed.”

He looked up at her when her voice broke the silence, crystal clear.

“No feelings allowed,” he repeated. It sounded good. Concrete. “Deal. Any other rule you’d think of?”

She sat down, the side of her finger tapping distractedly on her lips before her blue eyes found his in the dim light of her mezzanine.

“We can imagine our respective crushes instead of ourselves,” she declared. “We’re using our bodies to benefit each other. So it’s okay for you to imagine someone else instead of me. That way you’re even less tempted to fall in love with me. However… I’d rather have us not kiss.”

She bit her lip before adding:

“Don’t take it personally, but I think a consented kiss involves… emotional implications… And I’d rather not take the risk.”

He nodded.

It was a fair point, and he was glad she’d brought it to light.

Silence fell upon them again, but for the first time since he’d arrived, it wasn’t uncomfortable. It felt like whatever was looming over them had cleared up and they could finally breathe again. However, all they’d exchanged so far were words, and although Chat was alright with only that for now, he knew he’d probably be too nervous to come back if they didn’t stamp the seal of approval with something other than rules. His heart was beating fast in his chest, wild and seemingly unstoppable.

“So,” he said, taking a deep breath and forcing a joyful tone in his voice. “We can call it a deal, Princess?”

Marinette was kind of taken aback by the hopeful green eyes of her partner. They were tainted with nervousness, awkwardness, but she decided they couldn’t be much different from her own. Her heart was beating fast in her chest, even though their conversation had eased up whatever worry she’d been having ever since his last visit.

Her dreams had grown fiercer over the past week. Though she’d managed to keep a straight face most of the time now, she was worried of the unexpected turn her fantasies were taking. Chat Noir kissed her in her dreams. In all kinds of ways. Tenderly, fiercely, desperately, as Ladybug, as Marinette. And each kiss he bestowed upon her made her heart jolt in a way she didn’t like. She didn’t love Chat Noir. But she was in love with his body. She wanted him. And the idea of him developing feelings for her when all she cared about was his body made her uncomfortable.

That was why she couldn’t let Chat kiss her. Because she’d never be able to stop herself, and she wouldn’t bear watching him crumble because she couldn’t keep it together, if ever he… Started to think she was in love with him.

Because Chat, her partner, her best friend, was impulsive. And she knew it.

She was Ladybug. She balanced him. And that was why under no circumstances should she let her emotions get the better of her.

She looked at him, at the way his willow eyes peered at her, so expressive, and in that instant, Chat Noir was gorgeous.

“Yes,” she murmured, and he moved closer, though not close enough to step on her personal space, right before the halo of moonlight that poured from the glass above.

“I have no idea on what to do now,” he confessed, putting his hands on his hips in that manner he had when he was thinking.

Truth be told, she didn’t know either.

“Maybe we could uhm… Sit on my bed and uhm… Figure out something from there.”

He obeyed, and the bed creaked when he came to sit next to her, his cinnamon scent filling her nostrils when she turned her head to face him. Right. What could they possibly do? His cheeks were a dark shade of red now that his face was lit by the moonlight, and she considered she wasn’t in a much better state.

Maybe it was a bad idea.

“We uhm,” he started. “M-Maybe we could talk about… The places we prefer the most… I mean, the most sensitive ones…”

“O-Oh yeah g-good idea!”

They were clearly avoiding each other’s gaze at that point, but it was Marinette who broke the silence again.

“My ears. When you uhm… Blow softly in them. They’re v-very sensitive.”

His eyes got darker, as if they drunk in the information, or imagined the scene. She felt naked under his gaze, but for some reason, she couldn’t quite bring herself to want him to look away.

“Well it’s… The back of my neck, for me,” he returned, blinking slowly.

Thoughts of licking and scratching that area flashed in her mind, making her feel almost dizzy. She looked at her partner, heart thumping as the slow realisation that she _could_ try it right then and there poured an ocean of lava in her insides.

 _She could_.

He seemed to go through the same process, because his lips parted and he instinctively leaned closer. They were silently gauging each other, waiting for the other to make the first move, afraid to mess things up by stepping on whatever personal space they’d just agreed on giving up. She could see the way his pulse beat erratically on his neck, and slowly, she brought her hand to it, letting her fingers wander over the tender skin. She felt his breath catch in his throat, and she moved her hand further. She didn’t need to make any effort to pull him in, because his lips were on her neck before she could even press her fingers to his nape.

She couldn’t stop the gasp that escaped her when his mouth, burning, kissed the juncture of her neck, clashing with the wet cold of his teeth. She scratched at  his neck, feeling him twitch against her, his exhale fiery on her skin. She closed her eyes, drinking in her panting partner as he moved closer, until their knees touched. He didn’t let his hands venture under her pajama top, instead fisted it in the bedcovers in an attempt to preserve her freedom of movement, never pushing past her boundaries. He was much gentler than her fantasies.

Except for the way he licked his way up her neck, aiming for her ear, slowing his pace on purpose.

It was intoxicating.

The feeling of his actual sweat under the blonde locks of his nape, the choppy breath of his partner, of her own. It was too real. Chat Noir was nibbling on her ear lobe, the exhale he let out from his nose tickling the inside of her ear in a maddening manner. She jerked and her other arm gave out under her. She barely felt the soft mattress under her back as she focused on drawing circles on Chat’s nape with her nails, reveling in the growl of his voice. She felt his knee between her legs, pressing against her core and the contact set her ablaze, tearing a gasp from her. Instinctively, she ground her hips to rub against his leg. He tensed against her, freezing, and she realised in horror that she might’ve gone too far.

_Why must you be this fucking thirsty, Marinette?_

His ragged breath still blew in her ear, and she couldn’t stop the shiver that went through her body. She gulped and moved her hands away from Chat’s neck, slowly opening her eyes to meet the green sclera of her partner. His pupils were so dilated she could barely make out the natural green of his eyes, lost in the smoldering look he was giving her in that instant. She would’ve caught her breath if she wasn’t this aroused already.

He looked at her for a very long time, taking in the red of her cheeks, and the little beads of sweat on her temples, his messy blonde hair framing his own flushed face. His eyes then flickered to her breasts. She didn’t wear bras at night, and the instantaneous realisation that her nipples were pulling at the fabric of her top abashed her. She’d never gone this far with a boy, ever, and here she was, giving her all to her _partner_ , shamelessly. She was doing _that_ under the most familiar green eyes ever and she was so embarrassed in that instant that she could barely stream together a single coherent thought.

“I-I think we should s-stop here,” she stammered.

She moved abruptly away from the cage of his arms, crawling backwards until she could sit up. She self-consciously covered her chest with her arms, burning, and focused her attention on her toes.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “We… Got caught up. We should take it more slowly.”

She figured he was just as embarrassed as she was because he cleared his throat, and sat up in turn.

“N-No, I’m uhm… I’m sorry I scared you,” he replied, voice hoarse from the lingering arousal. “It’s all new to me, and it’s all new to you too! It’s new to the both of us I uhm…”

The awkwardness of the whole situation was almost laughable. It weighed on them, sobering them up as fast as they’d jumped into each other. It was embarrassing, nerve wracking, like a nightmare Marinette wanted to wake up from any time now. And yet, she felt bad because Chat probably felt the same way, and she’d been the one who’d dragged him into this in the first place.

She glanced at him and saw the crestfallen expression on his face, even though he wasn’t looking back at her and she bit her lip.

They _did_ get caught up in the novelty of this whole situation. But they would learn and adjust with time, right?

Sex friends.

Yeah, they were friends. They’d always been friends.

They could just… Do some friend things to let off the steam.

“Hey,” she said suddenly. “Wanna watch a movie?”

He looked up at her, eyes widening in surprise. It only lasted a second, because a relieved smile relaxed his features, a genuine smile, and he simply nodded.

“Sure, Princess.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which PDA and bitter limbs have become Mari's everyday life, but a game may or may not be the exit she's looking for ;)

“Did I take my sedatives?”

Alya rolled her eyes, smiling. “Yes, Mari. You did.”

“What if I took the wrong ones? I mean, you do have your own in your bag. I mean, not your own, but the ones for me that you always have in case I forgot mine and-”

“Yes I have, no you took the good ones and you don’t need to worry this much.”

Alya stopped walking and grabbed her friend’s wrist to force her to look in her eyes. With a sigh, she put a hand on Marinette’s shoulder and gave a reassuring smile.

“Hey,” she said soothingly. “I know it’s been a long time since we’ve had a squad outing, and that you’re very obviously stressed out at the prospect of seeing Adrien. It’s okay, honestly. But I’m telling you, again and again, that there’s no fire, no need to be scared, okay? Just smile that big, beautiful smile of yours, and be as clumsy as you want, because we’re all so happy to see each other at last. We’ll laugh, just like good old times. Man, I’m so glad we didn’t have to postpone the outing to the next month because of the Akuma attack!”

Marinette took a deep breath. Alya was right. They  _were_ lucky that Adrien had that free spot on Saturday afternoon. While they were supposed to hang out on Wednesday, they’d managed to fix a cinema outing three days later; and Marinette, although worried, was glad she didn’t have to wait for long. Alya was definitely right.

But the truth was, she was terrified. How would she react in front of Adrien? _Especially in a dark room_. How was she supposed to behave with his musky perfume right in her nostrils for two hours? And after what she had… decided on with Chat Noir.

 _In a civilised manner_ , the little voice in her head nagged.

Truth be told, she’d missed him. She’d missed his laughter, and his smile, and those kind green eyes of his. She’d missed his warm hand on her shoulder, and the way his hair didn’t quite fly that freely in the wind, probably from the gel he used here and there to keep his hair tidy. The skype calls truly weren’t enough, but they were better than nothing. Better than no contact at all.

The thought made her smile, and she looked back at her friend with a little bit more confidence. Sure her heart was beating like crazy, but she was going to spend the greatest of times with her friends, and her crush, because she wanted to cherish every second of it until their next outing. And with a little bit of luck, her hyperventilation syndrome wouldn’t kick in, and she wouldn’t have to use any sedative. The syndrome could be quite a handful, as it lasted for a few days after it happened. Fortunately, Marinette always had an anti-stress pill around, to easy her breathing and avoid a week of sighs and heavy breathing.

“Okay,” the heroine said with a nod. “It’ll be fun!”

“Now that’s my girl!” Alya exclaimed with a grin.

Patting Marinette on the shoulder, the brunette pulled her friend after her and into the métro entrance, diving into the crowd of hurrying Parisians and tourists. The station was fairly packed, though it wasn’t much of a surprise for a Saturday afternoon. It wasn’t worse than the Parisian métro at 6pm on any other day. No, it wasn’t hard at all to slither your way in a Saturday métro station at 3pm. The hardest part was not getting lost in the ocean of passersby once they reached their meeting point: the Champs Elysées.

Marinette’s own personal palmares of worst metro stations gave the Châtelet-Les Halles station the golden medal, every time, and especially during the afternoon rush. The station was such that three separate stations had actually merged during the Halles renovations, five years ago. It had made it such that 8 different metro lines now went through the station, both the RER and regular metro, and even without counting the hundreds of people who visited the Halles mall everyday, the Halles neighbourhood, or those commuting in for the day, slithering your way through that station was complete hell.

Fortunately for them, the George V cinema was far enough, and the girls didn’t need to commute in the Halles at all.

“I don’t know if I should congratulate or curse the owner of the George V cinema,” Alya sighed as they made their way down the famed avenue. “I mean, can you imagine how much cash they get every day? But at what cost? Our death? Crushed by a hundred cinephiles?”

Marinette laughed, but the sound died away in the Parisian hubbub. Paris was packed at the end of the week, swarming with students and resting workers, but first and foremost the tourists who managed to afford a weekend trip. Cars weren’t giving up their share either, blaring klaxons clashing with the chatter of the sidewalks.

Marinette tucked her chin in her scarf, trying to block the smell of gasoline as she pulled the cloth over her nose. Paris sure was packed that day, but she, a veteran Parisian, had survived worse. Slithering between the passersby, she finally spotted the shiny billboard of the cinema, letting out a sigh when she pushed the door open and stepped into the heated hall. She took off her gloves and hat, and immediately started looking around for any familiar faces.

“You think we came too early?” she asked Alya.

Her friend laughed. “Marinette Dupain-Cheng has arrived early to an appointment. What happens next will shock you.”

The quietness of the hall, as opposed to the bedlam outside, was a bit disconcerting. Still used to the volume of the street, their own loud voices clashed with the silence, almost painful to the ear. Still, Marinette giggled at her friend’s clickbait parody.

“Hold that headline, Alya. Now’s not the day you finally get to use it.”

Alya rolled her eyes and turned around to face her boyfriend, crossing her arms in that Alya-like manner of hers.

“Do you spend the night at our meeting points every time to ruin our happiness, cap head?”

Nino laughed, resting his hand on Alya’s head to pull back her beanie and plant a tender kiss on her forehead. Marinette made a grimace, rolling her eyes in a teasing manner.

“I can’t believe PDA isn’t, in any way, illegal in France,” she groaned, swallowing her giggle as she did so.

“Country of Love, Marinette, Country of Love,” Alya retorted with a smile, wrapping her arms around her boyfriend’s neck to pull him closer.

Nino had, like all of them, grown over the years. More in the literal way, as he was now the tallest of the gang, towering over them with his effortless 190cm. When not compared to the surreal beauty of Adrien Agreste, he’d become quite the cutie too, with his chiseled features, aquiline nose and faint stubble. His hair had grown a bit longer than it was in middle school, and he’d gone through several glasses models already, but his eternal cap would only ever be traded for a beanie, making Marinette wonder several times if he didn’t sleep with it too. Well, the greatest DJ couldn’t afford to ruin his ears because of the cold, he said.

“Blah blah blah, have you ever checked the dating stats of the country,” she complained. “It’s dramatic. Everyone’s single.”

“Well, you know, French people are all about the “single and ready to mingle” speech.”

Marinette’s heart jolted in her chest at the sound of the sudden interlocutor. She recognised the voice instantly, as only the most veteran of stalkers ever would, and she considered for a fraction of second breaking into a total run away from the fattest crush of her entire life and swallowing the entirety of her sedative box. She took a deep breath, and turned around.

Adrien Agreste, in all his splendor and humility. This man who Marinette often wondered even went to _poop_ like any other human being. He, whose perfection contradicted ages of philosophical and empirical research that all stated: Perfection does not exist.

 _I beg Voltaire, Aristotle, Rousseau, any of those smart guys, behaviour professionals, scientists please come back from the dead and find one flaw to Adrien Agreste that can make me rest easy at night,_ Marinette thought. _I beg you science, help me out._

Adrien smiled, bundled in his khaki parka, fur covering the lower part of his face as he waved a gloved hand her way.

 _Lord almighty, keep the PDA alive and just make it illegal to be this handsome_.

“Hi, Marinette.”

Was the cinema just overheated or was she blushing? Nope, the cinema was definitely at fault. She swallowed a yelp and pulled back her scarf, trying to breathe.

“H-Hi Adrien,” she managed to stutter, a nervous laughter escaping her lips. “M-Man it’s been so long, what h-have you been up to?”

His eyebrows lifted for a fraction of second, as though he was about to laugh. But the chuckle never came and all he suddenly did was stare at her without a word, willow green eyes fixated on her like he was _remembering_ something that made him extremely uncomfortable. The unexpected intensity of his gaze made Marinette uneasy but she felt nailed by it, unable to fidget, or move, or even look away.

She was so going to faint at this rate.

Adrien was the one to look away first, clearing his throat as he abruptly shoved his hands back in his pockets. That was unlike the usually polite Adrien Agreste, but he quickly looked back at her with another smile, opening his mouth to say something when suddenly they were interrupted by a suction sound to their right.

“ _I SWEAR TO GOD ALYA, I SAID NO MORE PDA, HOLY SHIT.”_

Well, talk about sedatives, maybe taking them now would cut out her friends’ noise.

* * *

 

“Okay,” Marinette said. “But that film was like really super duper cool.”

“I mean it did _sound_ like a cool film,” Nino asked, twirling a lock from Alya’s curls around his finger.

“The synopsis?”

“Yeah.”

Marinette let out a choked laughter, dropping her head on the cafe’s table. She immediately looked back up with a grimace, rubbing her forehead where her skull collided with her forearm.

“Ouch,” she yelped. “ _Ouch_. I don’t even know what part of me I should be tending to, is this really my life now? PDA obsessed friends and limbs that seem to hate the guts out of each other?”

Alya laughed. “Ask our resident Prince Charming to tend to your wounds. I’m sure he’d gladly abide.”

Marinette playfully slapped her friend on the arm. “ _Alya._ ”

She was laughing, but inside her entire world was crumbling, mini Marinettes running everywhere in her brain, begging her not to explode from the stress of having her 3 years old crush right in front of her, sitting across from her. All that tough attitude definitely couldn’t fall apart now.

She looked at Adrien and crossed her arms with a little pout. He was laughing.

In the entire 3 years that Marinette had known him, she’d grown to realise that his gaze always seemed melancholic when he wasn’t having fun. As if normal Adrien and happy Adrien were two completely different people.

His happiness was contagious, and she soon felt her pout morph into a smile, mirroring his as their gaze met.

“Alright, Princess,” he said. “Where art thou hurt?”

She twitched at the mention of the word ‘ _Princess_ ’, heartbeat freezing. She was feeling hot again, but for a completely different reason.

It took every ounce of her self control to cross her legs tightly at the sudden memory of Chat’s lips on her ear, of claws trailing down her sides and his moan shaking her entire body. Her hands clung to each other for dear life and she very desperately tried to slam the least awkward smile she could fathom on her face.

She hoped Adrien didn’t notice the sudden stiffness of her posture, or the way she instinctively bit her lip, as she laughed away her nervousness.

“S-Sorry I didn’t catch that haha. I uhm… You know what? I have to go to the restroom.”

She slammed the door behind her with a loud thud, only breathing when she turned the lock and let her back rest on the metallic door of the toilets. It was weird to think that she breathed much better in a room full of toilet paper and pee smell, but there were a lot of things she’d stopped questioning a long time ago.

“Come on, Mari,” she told herself. “You need to get your shit together. The whole point of getting a sex friend _was_ to keep those thoughts at bay. And what are you doing exactly? The very opposite.”

She groaned and pressed her face against her hands, muffling the sound.

Back at the table, Adrien took a deep breath, the weight of his words finally striking him like a full-speed train. He almost wished they’d sat outside so he could hide his blooming blush in his scarf. Instead he just breathed in and out, in the most discreet way possible, to try and calm his racing heart without attracting his friends’ attention.

Why, of all words, did he have to call her “Princess”? And why couldn’t he calm down? He was creating, imagining this entire tension ever since he’d met her today, when she didn’t even know that he was Chat Noir.

What if she mistook his behaviour for a crush on his part? He couldn’t allow that. He couldn’t allow himself to bring Marinette down because he didn’t see her that way anyway. He wanted to slam his head against the table forever. Wanted to bury himself right there in the ground. But he couldn’t. So instead, he just pulled his hot chocolate towards him and took a sip, trying to look as nonchalant as ever, even though the drink was burning his oesophagus.

“Ahem.”

He looked up to see the smug faces of his friends, eyebrows lifted as they expected him to give away some important secret. They were way too obvious. He sighed and decided to play dumb.

“What?”

“Ahem ahem.”

“Sorry, Alya,” he smiled obliviously. “I’m not fluent in coughing.”

Alya rolled her eyes, groaning. “I swear to God, you and Marinette-”

“Is there some heavy tension we were not aware of until today?” Nino asked, blunt.

“Like?”

“Well, you’ve been ogling at each other the whole afternoon, and now Marinette just stormed off to the toilets like Hell was after her…”

Alya crossed her arms. “In my opinion, she ran away because the tension was too much.”

Adrien blinked, drumming his fingers on the warm cup. “If you’re asking if something’s happened between Mari and I, I’m here to smash your hopes. I don’t see what you’re talking about-”

He winced when he felt Alya’s leg hit his under the table. “Lies.”

“Holy- Alya, I swear-”

She leant over the table, looking deeply into Adrien’s eyes and he gulped. Towering over him that way, with those fierce hazel eyes... Man, that girl could be dead scary when she wanted information.

“Do you have romantic feelings for my best friend?”

Adrien knew he had to be careful with his choice of word. He had to put an end to that comedy before it became something impossible to handle. Him? Having feelings for Marinette? Where did they get that from? He’d never heard that. Him and Marinette… Ha.

“Alya,” he said, fighting every cell of his body not to look away and lose composure. “I swear. There’s nothing going on between me and her. I don’t even know what tension you’re talking about, and if ever there was, I don’t even have _time_ for a relationship. You really think I could lie to you about that?”

And it was the truth. He loved Ladybug, and Marinette was just that cute little friend of his who’d offered to become Chat Noir’s sex friend to forget about whoever she was crushing on. Sure, he understood what Alya and Nino were trying to do, trying to help their friend move on her seemingly impossible crush. But he wasn’t the right pick. They should go and find someone else, someone more available.

He sighed and took a sip from his chocolate. “I don’t have time for stuff like that, nor do I see Marinette that way. Really… For the sake of our friendship, don’t try and ruin it by forcing a romance that doesn’t exist. I really like her, and I don’t want to lose her to something as trivial as a half-baked love drama.”

“So, what did I miss?”

Marinette sat down, a smile plastered all over her face as she grabbed her water bottle from the table. Had she heard? Well, it wasn’t like he’d hurt her feelings or anything, right? She didn’t have a crush on him, and therefore probably thought the same about not ruining their friendship. But why did he feel so uneasy?

She looked at him, and he expected to see a pool of sadness, an ocean of hurt; he caught his breath, unsure if he was ready to take it in. But when he met her gaze, all he saw was the usual Marinette-like tenderness, the familiar sparkle and the blue. She was smiling like she’d never ran to the toilets, and Adrien was failing to exactly pinpoint if there was ever something wrong, or if it was just his usual guilt kicking in.

He glanced at Nino and Alya, but they looked unfazed, barely shaken by Marinette’s arrival. On the contrary, Nino even wrapped his arm around Marinette, exclaiming:

“Mari, Mari, Mari… The world stops spinning as soon as you walk out. How can you even _miss_ something?”

“Here he goes cheating on me with my best friend!” Alya yelped, pummeling his arm with feigned offense. “Mari, defend yourself from this manwhore.”

“You mean defend your middle school friend from all this violence!” Nino yelled, beaming as Marinette burst out laughing. “Adrien, buddy, now’s your time to shine. Save me and let us elope in the sunset!”

Adrien huffed. “I swear…”

Their banter was interrupted by the strident ring of his phone and he instinctively reached out for the device in his pocket. He glanced at the caller and brought the phone to his ear, taking a deep breath.

“Hi, Nathalie.”

“Adrien, how’s your afternoon going?”

“It’s going g-”

“That’s good to know. I’m just calling to remind you that you have a shooting scheduled in an hour. Gorilla is going to pick you up in 15 minutes, so call him to tell him where you are.”

“Okay, thanks Nathalie..”

Adrien barely had the time to finish his sentence before she hung up. He didn’t mind, for Nathalie had always been that kind of curt person without it impacting her compassion towards him over the years, but he didn’t lower his phone immediately. In opposition to Nathalie’s hurried tone, his movements in that instant were slow, as if he drunk in every second.

He stared at his phone for a while before suddenly straightening up in his chair and looking up at his expectant friends. They already knew what he was going to say, but he still cracked an apologetic smile.

“I gotta go.”

“How long until Gorilla comes?” Nino asked.

“I have about 15 minutes,” he replied. “Hey… Maybe we could like, hang out a bit until I call him.”

Pulling out his phone, Nino winced at the time displayed on the screen. “Well, I’d love to but my parking stamp’s about to expire. Sorry, buddy.”

“It’s okay,” Adrien said with a smile. “We’ll see each other at school anyway. How about you?” He added to Alya and Marinette.

“Nino’s dropping me home so I won’t tag along,” Alya apologised with a contrite smile. “Mari’s free though, so you stick together and we’ll go ahead. It was really fun seeing you though, Adrien. I’m glad to see that you’re surviving all this hairspray and flashes.”

The model laughed. “My survival is an everyday surprise to me too. But a good one, because I can see you, guys!”

The group made an ‘aww’ sound, and like an unspoken agreement, all of them opened their arms and pulled into a hug, the first in what had felt like ages. It felt warm and familiar, the perfumes of all of his friends clashing together, the fur of the coats stroking his cheeks, and the stretch of his arms as he tried to embrace all of them.

“Alright guys,” Nino said. “I’m not saying that I dislike your company, but I really gotta dash. Babe, say bye.”

Alya pulled Marinette into another hug, squeezing her friend until she coughed for mercy.

“Alyaaa, we always see each other!” Marinette pleaded, laughing.

“Can’t I miss my best friend 24/7 ?” Alya retorted, flicking her friend’s forehead. “See you, girl.”

“Sure, sure.”

The amateur journalist turned towards Adrien and hugged him too. The hug was slightly longer than it should’ve been, like she wanted to tell him something. But as she pulled away, it felt like she’d lost confidence or decided it wasn’t worth it. Nino, on the other hand, was more familiar in his goodbyes before he exited the café with Alya.

And here they were now. Alone.

The silence stretched between the two of them, as none of them knew exactly what to talk about, for their minds were full of images they didn’t dare talk about. Eventually, it was Adrien who broke the silence, clearing his throat:

“So do you want to walk to the Pont de l’Alma? That’d be easier for Gorilla.”

“Y-Yeah sure,” Marinette answered, wrapping her scarf around her neck. “That’d be good.”

And so they left the café together in awkward silence, cups in hand.

Adrien didn’t know what to say, or even how to justify the uneasiness of the situation. Well, the fact that he was alone with her for the first time since he’d visited her as Chat Noir had its own weight. Though she didn’t know his identity, it didn’t make him any less uncomfortable to look at her and remember the flush in her face under the moonlight.

 _Well, Adrien, that’s stupid, really_.

In opposition to the warmth of the café, the air outside was cold, and besides the distinct whoosh of cars in the distance, the only noise was that of dead leaves under their feet. Paris in winter was a whole new world, marked by the puddles on the pavement, and the dead trees. The wind from the Seine was freezing, and the streets were unfamiliarly empty. Winter in Paris was all about waiting for that one ray of sunshine in the morning.

Sunset was close as Marinette and Adrien walked down the street to the banks of the Seine. Clouds rolled in the sky, making the light dim faster around them.

“S-So what have you been up to?” Adrien asked, taking a sip from his drink.

“O-Oh well uhm… N-Nothing much. I’m just good old Marinette, you know? Working hard at school and all…”

“That’s good to know.”

“U-Uhm how about you? I feel like we haven’t talked enough about you… I-I mean not that we don’t see you in all the magazines lately.” She laughed nervously.

Adrien chuckled quietly, gaze locked on the horizon ahead of him. “Oh well… Work, I guess? Photoshoots and interviews… I’m lucky not to have paparazzis in my trail. I guess a model’s life is a bit easier than that of actors and singers?”

“Yeah, definitely.”

With the silence stretching again, Adrien became pretty sure that neither of them would be able to save the discussion at this point. He’d probably end up going to his photoshoot without the chance of a constructive conversation with his friend, but it didn’t sound so bad in that instant. He was, after all, a mess right now.

Suddenly though, Marinette spoke up:

“You know… I missed you.”

Adrien stopped in his tracks, taken aback. No, he definitely didn’t expect that from her. Or from anyone. The girl stopped as well, a few feet ahead of him, and though her back stiffened, she still mustered the courage to turn around and smile, the light behind her tracing her silhouette against the white winter sky. His lips parted, and he felt his heartbeat against his chest. When was the last time he’d heard anyone say they’d missed him?

It was strange. He’d always known whenever someone missed him. It wasn’t much of a thing to voice. People rarely voiced it. So had he ever really heard it out loud?

In front of him, Marinette was fidgeting nervously, bumping a shaky fist against her leg, her smile slowly morphing into a contrite one. Half of her face was covered by the huge pastel scarf she’d tied around her neck, in such a way that Adrien could only ever guess the nature of her smile from the way her cheeks rose and fell under her almond eyes. And still, he could barely stop the smile that stretched his lips, one of the few genuine ones he made from time to time when he wasn’t Chat Noir. He smiled, and as  the crescent of his mouth widened he suddenly found himself laughing. Laughing with happiness, with gratitude. That raven-haired girl who stood in front of him, his precious friend. How could he even dare break her heart, or confuse her? He’d never allow himself to destroy the friendship that tied him to her. That genuine, soft-spoken, honest Marinette he’d been friends with since middle school.

She blushed, averting her gaze, and he felt like hugging her. He didn’t move though. No, he simply nodded in appreciation.

“Thank you,” he barely murmured, unsure if she’d heard it, or read it on his lips.

Maybe she did, because her blush intensified and she fidgeted even more. Though the nature of the fidgeting was beyond him.

Maybe she was really embarrassed. The normally outgoing Marinette had always been that way around him. He’d often associated her shyness around him with his father being her favourite designer, and that it constantly worried her about making their friendship look like she was using him to climb the ladder. At least that was what she’d told Chat Noir once when he’d questioned the posters on her walls.

He looked at her, and the way her red face clashed with the pastel of her outfit, the way the wind played with her bangs. He liked the way the sky behind her made her look majestic. Marinette had always been his princess, and Ladybug his Queen of Hearts. Marinette had said not to involve any feelings in what they did, in their contract, but had she said anything about physical attraction? Because in that instant, that very instant, with the city sounds, and the birds in the sky and the salty scent of the Seine below them… In the very instant he looked at Marinette, all he felt was pure lust.

He wanted to feel her soft hair against his cheek, her entire body twitch under his. He wanted to touch her burning skin, and feel her nails dig deep in his shoulders. Smell the sweat and the arousal on her, nibble at her fingers as she squirmed and moaned. He ached to play with those ears that drove her crazy when he touched them, licked them, bit them.

God, he wanted her body, and he hadn’t even come back to visit her since the day he’d accepted her offer.

Was it a good idea to get a raging boner before a photoshoot? Well as long as the girls he was posing with didn’t have any selfish intention, he’d probably be good.

He exhaled a pale cloud of air in the cold, breaking through whatever trance he and Marinette had suddenly been trapped in. He looked away and spotted the familiar figure of his driver. He almost felt disappointed.

Turning back towards Marinette, he smiled encouragingly, brushing aside his dirty unwanted thoughts. Had they not been sex friends, he’d say she didn’t deserve any of those thoughts, any of his perversion, but she was using him too. So it was okay, right? He suppressed the uncomfortable churning in his stomach. Was this contract selfish? No, he was helping her out, right? He felt like he was unleashing a horrible beast that’d been sleeping inside of him for a very long time.

“It was really nice seeing you, Marinette,” he said, waving at her. “I’ll try and free some time in my schedule some other time. By then, you better have a ton of things to tell me.”

She smiled back, nodding. “Sure thing, Adrien. Take care of yourself too.”

He nodded back, shooting one last glance her way before he got into the car. Was it really unleashing a beast, or controlling it for the greater good? For Ladybug’s sake? Was it alright to do it with Marinette, of all people? Was that why he was feeling so guilty? Because he knew her in real life and couldn’t let his greed go beyond the mask? After all he wasn’t _in love_ her. He only desired her. But Marinette didn’t know that about Adrien Agreste.

* * *

 

Marinette groaned, sucking on her finger where the needle stung her.

“This is it. I’m not getting any work done!”

Furious, she closed her sewing box and let herself fall on the ground, pulling her knees at her.

_‘I don’t have time for stuff like that, nor do I see Marinette that way. Really… For the sake of our friendship, don’t try and ruin it by forcing a romance that doesn’t exist. I really like her, and I don’t want to lose her to something as trivial as a half-baked love drama.’_

It stung.

Way more than the needle.

Way more than she wanted to admit.

It felt like her entire body was burning, melting from the inside and her world was crumbling around her.

She felt like crying, even though she should’ve seen it coming.

“Right, Marinette? Have you ever made an effort to look like a girl to him? Have you ever even _flirted_ with him the way all guys want? It’s all your fault.”

His words reverberated in her mind, echoing endlessly, filling her bones and running down her veins like poison. Truly she wanted to cry, but even that… Even that her body wouldn’t let her.

Instead, all she thought was “Man if only Chat Noir was there to let me drown my pain in sex”.

“I hate this… I so hate this…”

She pressed her forehead against her knees, wanting to drown in the darkness of her closed eyes. God how she’d wanted him in that instant… When he’d stared at her, so intensely. She’d felt so naked under his eyes, and she’d loved every single second of it. When he said “thank you”, when his lips parted as though he wanted to _say_ something else. She’d wanted him, and he left.

Marinette had gone through so many ordeals in her life, from becoming Ladybug to fighting every single day for her passions. But nothing could ever top the mask she’d put in front of her friends when she’d come back from the restroom. Each smile had felt like stabbing herself. She’d wanted to crumble and cry, but she preferred not to. And when she’d found herself alone with Adrien… Why couldn’t she have a break? Why was fate so cruel? And now she had it. All the time in the world. And her eyes were drier than ever.

She was pulled away from her thoughts when she heard the familiar knock on her glassdoor. She almost wanted to stay like that and never move. She didn’t really want to move. She wanted to be sad for the rest of her life. But for some reason, her body moved and she opened the trapdoor with mechanical, lifeless movements, barely even smiling when she met the shining emeralds of her partner.

“Hey, Princess! I was walking around the neighbourhood and- Hey, what’s wrong?”

She averted her gaze, and suddenly her throat felt way too painful to talk.

“N-Nothing,” she stammered. “I just… Ha… I got a bad mark.”

She heard the soft thud of Chat’s boots against the wood of her mezzanine floor, but she barely twitched. And then his warm hands were on her arms, strong and insistent.

“A bad mark, really? I wasn’t aware of my Princess being a crybaby when it comes to marks,” he laughed and teased her with a flick on the forehead. “I don’t know where you got that excuse from but that’s a pity because I’m the official _Mari Translate_. All rights reserved to myself, Chat Noir, hero of Paris.”

She made a small noise, but not enough for it to even be the semblance of a laugh. He let out a breath and his grip on her loosened slightly.

“Okay, hey, Marinette. Talk to me, okay? I’ll be… I’ll be your diary so just smile that beautiful smile of yours that lightens up the sky and Paris and the entire world. Just laugh so that I can know that everything’s okay, everything’s good. That my princess is the happiest princess. You can even hit me if someone made you mad. See, I’ve worked out a lot in the three years I’ve protected Paris. Bad guys have it tough with me!”

She shook her head and, taking a deep breath, she looked back at him. “I’m okay, Chat. Really.”

She wanted her gaze to convey all the strength she could possibly gather and more, make him brush it off and just stop poking at her wound. She wanted it so much, that she even worried her eyes might look more pleading than determined. Yet, it seemed to work because he let go of her and went to sit on the bed.

“Alright, I’ll believe you. But that means you still need to give me the name of that teacher of yours, so that I can visit them at night and _plead_ for my friend.”

She gave him half a smile, grateful that he didn’t press the matter any further. “Yeah, I should.”

There was a small silence before he spoke again, as he seemed lost in his thoughts. “You know, we should play a game.”

“What?”

He smirked, resting his elbows on his thighs as he went on. “A game. I’ll even set rules because I’m a fair kitty cat.”

Marinette couldn’t help rolling her eyes. “Chat I’m not in the m-”

“I’ll call it… _Reveal or be revealed._ ”

“Really, Chat I-”

“You said our whole contract was about benefiting from each other, _helping_ each other,” he said, ignoring her pleas. “And truly I’m such a lonely cat with no patrol to keep his paws busy today. Wouldn’t you be such a bad friend not to entertain _mew_?”

Marinette sighed, groaning as she crossed her arms. She didn’t have time for that. Why was he so insensitive? It wasn’t like him to press matters so much. Maybe she could get him to give up by tricking him.

“Alright,” she said. “I’ll listen to the rules. But if I don’t like them, you go out of the window for the day. If I like them, I promise to comply to every single one of them.” She leaned against the wall and tilted her head, smirking almost. “Your game better be top notch, kitty.”

He only grinned, intertwining his fingers with a dutiful nod. Well, there was nothing to be scared of. She’d say no even if the game did entertain her. What she’d found strange though was the fact that he didn’t even try and negotiate the terms of the contract.

“It’s gonna be simple,” Chat said cheerfully. “I’ll ask a question about you, and try to guess the answer on my own. If I’m wrong, you choose whether you want me to tell you something about myself, or to remove a piece of clothing. And then, it’s all in turns.” He paused for a second, reflecting upon the rules he’d just described, considering their feasibility, before adding. “Ah, since I can’t really remove clothing pieces with my magical suit, I’ll just lower the zipper further and further every time you want. Whoever removes everything they can first loses and owes the winner. How does it sound? Deal?”

Marinette couldn’t believe her ears. Did he just… Suggest they’d play a strip game? Her eyes were probably bulging out of their sockets from the offer, but the worst part definitely was the fact that it didn’t even sound like half a bad game. In fact… The prospect of learning more about Chat while distracting her mind from her heartbreak…

Almost against her will, she felt herself nod, and suddenly, she heard her own voice echo in the room:

“Deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Preparing this chapter for posting was a RIDE.  
> But I'll thank Ayla for her betaing!! It was tough, but it was great :D
> 
> So here it is, the new chapter! I repeat, the problem is not writing, but finding a beta willing to be serious about this whole adventure. I've been changing betas with every chapter and it's starting to get pretty tiring haha, so feel free to offer your help if you're serious!
> 
> One more point about the hyperventilation syndrome. Myself suffering from it, I just thought it'd be cool to have Mari have that thing too. It's more of a handicap, than actual regular hyperventilation. It's caused by random events, and last for aaaaaages. My last hyperventilation episode lasted a month. I was just sighing every time because I felt like my lungs didn't shove out all the air, and breathing in was hard too because then, they felt too small. Anyway! That was the medical point of this note :)
> 
> Again thank you for following my fic, for reviewing it with all your amazing comments, and I'll see you for the next chapter!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which exactly what you waited for in the previous chapter happens... maybe

“Deal.”

When Adrien had made up the rules, half of him had wanted Marinette to agree. The other half -maybe a little more than that actually, had expected her to say no. Now that he was faced with the chunk of the plan that he had absolutely not thought through, the scandalising part of his suggestion was crashing upon him like a boulder.

Supposing there was a part to this game that was not scandalising.

His lips parted, desperate to fill the silence before it became awkward, but his mind was completely blank in embarrassment. He hoped that his gaze didn't betray his sudden lack of confidence, whatsoever. There was, in fact, a noble reason behind his game. A white spot in an ocean of lust, but a white spot anyway. Marinette wasn’t okay, and though he was known to respect people’s privacy, he couldn’t fight the need to find out what hurt her and take her mind off it. He usually suggested more childish games, like tag, or pictionary.

But that was before they became sex friends, and he a thirsty dimwit.

He internally cussed at himself.

She had lied, and for some reason he’d known it. Do liars recognise other liars? Do they recognise the little flicker of their gaze before they smiled? Either way, he wanted her to feel lighter. Solidarity over his own loneliness, probably. Something he wished people could give him, if he wasn’t such a good liar. He took a deep breath, as discreetly as possible to mask his nervousness.

“I thought for a second you'd kick me out of your window,” he piped.

Marinette’s cheeks lit up almost instantly. He was mainly used to it, and though it was most natural with Marinette, he'd never tried to make her blush over anything sexual, and the sight was suddenly far more arousing than his “noble cause” was comfortable with. He bit the inside of his cheek.

“It’s never too late,” she muttered, suddenly focusing on her sleeve.

“Now, now, now,” he exclaimed, pulling her duvet around him. “Animal cruelty is illegal and look at me bundled in this warm comforter.”

He made Puss in Boots eyes, dramatic as ever, and he couldn’t help the smile that cracked his lips when Marinette rolled her eyes. Points for him.

“Fine,” she conceded, sitting across from him on the bed. Though her body faced him, she seemed intent on avoiding his gaze.

Chat gulped despite his dry mouth, letting his comforter hood fall on his shoulders like a cloak. He was nervous too, but not enough to back down:

“Were you out this afternoon?”

Marinette kept her gaze riveted on her in-built bookcase, lips swollen from the biting. She looked way more nervous than he was, and though he knew the answer to his question already, though his mouth opened and he'd readied himself for a a free point… He answered:

“Probably not.”

Her gaze flickered towards him. It took her a full second to realise that he was wrong and that he was going to lower his zipper. He was smiling, but as strange as the entire context was, it was reassuring. Adrenaline kicked in Marinette’s veins when the weight of the situation dawned on her. They _were_ playing a strip game. As he moved his hand towards his neck, her mouth dried. It felt like the second before an Akuma attack, when excitement would contract her muscles and dilate her pupils. It was that impatience that took hold of her entire body when she knew a fight was coming, when she knew she couldn’t stop it from happening but was oh so impatient to jump right into it and breath the thrill of it.

Chat’s hand froze above of his bell. He looked hesitant, as if he waited for her permission. She looked up and into his eyes, careful, and she was aware of the hasty staccato of her heart, and the familiar incertitude in his eyes that was that of a Chat Noir who hated to force himself on people. Yet, she found herself unable to reassure him with a smile, nodding briefly instead, barely breathing when the _zip_ of his suit filled the silence. It was as though the sound would never end, even if he had only lowered his zipper enough for Marinette to catch a glimpse of his collarbone. White and smooth and terribly tempting.

She puffed.

“It’s uhm… Your turn,” he said finally.

Her mind was a complete disaster. _A question_ . She had to come up with a _question_. Come on, Marinette. What does Ladybug know about Chat Noir that Marinette isn’t supposed to?

“You’re uhm… a catnip addict?”

Chat Noir almost choked. “What?”

“I mean you’re a cat?”

He burst out laughing. “ _What?_ ”

Marinette, on the other hand, was completely puzzled. For various reasons, actually. Why did she pick this specific event, out of 3 years of friendship? And why did he react this way? Last time she checked, he was utterly embarrassed. Bringing her back to question number one: Why did she pick this anecdote?

“I’m a human being,” he said between two giggles. “Catnip doesn’t actually work on me. It works on my kwami.”

“What?”

He was grinning, still amused. “Ah well, there may have been that one time where I had to patrol after a gala organised by my father. I was a bit tipsy so I don’t remember much of what happened, but Ladybug started teasing me about catnip after that.”

_Oh._

So that was what happened. Except that a completely drunk Chat Noir was convinced that everything smelled like catnip and that a mysterious catnip treasure was hidden somewhere in Paris for him only to find. A drunk Chat Noir was a babysitting adventure. And Marinette, for all her loyalty, could not objectively tell if he was drunk or high.

In a way, she was glad that he didn’t have any drug problem.

“That means you either remove a piece of clothing or tell me something about yourself.”

_Oh._

“So much power in such a little superhero, truly,” he added, smirking as he moved his head closer to Marinette’s.

The green eyes were peering at her, and she worried that he might have been able to hear her pounding heart. He was close, close enough for her to spot the trailing skin inside his suit, beyond the opening of his zipper, less than a finger away. She ached to snap the fly open and run her hands over the expanse of his chest but she looked up instead, determined to hold his gaze. She didn’t like the idea of being on the losing side, completely flustered. So she smirked, eyes gleaming, challenging despite the chaos that raged inside of her.

The way his pupils dilated sent a wave of arousal in her entire body, pooling in her stomach like lava. His eyes twitched, widened slightly, and she wondered if he would take up the challenge. She refused to be the first one to speak.

Finally, he sat back, as nonchalantly as he had first moved towards her. His smile stretched and he chimed:

“It’s gonna be one princess secret for me. No salt, no onions, and you can keep the change, thank you.”

She blinked. Like a child whose toy got confiscated.

So he was going to play the taunting way? Too bad Ladybug could play the very very petty way.

“A princess secret you say?” she could feel her voice grow more and more hoarse as she sat cross-legged, leaning back against her stretched arms. “Well, isn’t that risqué intel?”

“Well I’m a man of dangers, Your Highness,” Chat answered, tilting his head. His smirk showed no sign of leaving.

“Is night blue a colour you enjoy?”

Something flashed in his gaze in that instant, something almost -no, completely primitive, and she cowered from looking down, past his stomach. She felt safer with the familiar merrymaking.

 _Familiar, huh_.

His tongue ran over his lips, but his gaze didn’t venture over her body, determinedly riveted on her eyes. It felt like more like he was fighting his own wild instincts than looking at her. It felt strange. It was her friend who was looking at her, Marinette, that way. Her friend, who she’d been physically close to for years, without the single sexual motive in mind before. Her friend who she’d never even considered a possible love interest, let alone a sexual interest.

It felt weird to look at Chat now and ache for his touch, burn under his demanding gaze, and not feel the slightest ounce of embarrassment.

“Let’s add a rule,” she heard herself whisper. “If I’m correct, I choose what you give me.”

“You’re enjoying this way more than you’d like to admit, right?”

“Maybe.”

Still, she played with the hem of her pullover, pulling at the sleeve hesitantly. She wondered how she could remove it in a sexy way. She’d never played such a game before. But her arm was out of the sleeve before she even realised it, and the next thing she knew, she was pulling the garment over her head. She wore a tank top under the wool jersey but instead of feeling chilly, she felt more at ease; she had felt too hot inside of that anyway. She glanced at Chat, and his gaze lingered on her shoulder, on the blue-night strap that squeezed her skin.

“I can touch you.”

It should have been a question, but in her mouth, it sounded like an affirmation. His eyes, which probably couldn’t get any darker, widened, black swallowing whatever green was left in his pupils. Only the sclera of his mask remained a bright green. His lips parted and he rose his hand to his bell, but he found Marinette’s hand already there. She looked up, searching for permission in his eyes. When he exhaled, unmoving, she lowered the zip.

Her movements were slow, careful, almost hesitant, and she stopped right above his heart. His chest was pounding, and she figured his heart was racing like crazy. Maybe as much as her own. He gulped, and his Adam’s apple seemed to be screaming out for her. She moved her head closer, the heat of her own exhale crashing against her face as it ricocheted on his skin.

“You’re wearing lace bras.”

Her voice was merely a murmur before she pressed her lips against his neck, pulling the zipper lower. “Wrong.”

His skin tasted of salt and cold, with the lingering smell of chocolate that may have clung to whatever scarf he wore as a civilian. He smelled of wintery Paris, of a freezing Seine and cafés. He smelled familiar, but she didn’t have enough focus to dwell on that. All she cared about was the line her tongue traced over his collarbone and he gasped. The hair of his nape tickled her forehead when she circled his neck to reach his ear. Nibbling the lobe, she whispered:

“Do you want me to get rid of that top?”

Something that could have been a chuckle escaped Chat’s throat. “Only?”

“Fair.”

She felt his claws on her back, cold against her burning skin when he caught the waistband of her pants. He wanted to be slow, but he was eager. Too eager. He couldn’t focus with her mouth trailing all over his collarbone. His lack of experience didn’t help either. He inhaled when the tip of his claw caught what he assumed was the hem of her panties. It felt frilly, almost like lace, a fabric that he only knew too well from the underwear shootings he had sometimes.

“You said I was wrong about the lace.”

She inhaled when he ran his claw over her waist to unbutton her pants. “The bras. They’re cotton.”

The rough fabric of her jeans slid down her legs with a rustle. Chat had only lowered them to her knees before letting himself fall backwards on the comforter he’d wrapped himself into earlier, Marinette now topping him as she shook her legs free from the bothering garment.

“Whose turn was it?”

He felt like burning under her touch. She had yet to let her hands slip inside his suit, probably reluctant to ruin the game by inadvertently lowering the rest of his zipper. He appreciated, but his cock was so crammed he felt like exploding. Especially as she continued her ministrations on his neck and chest. It was clumsy, too rushed at times, too rough at places. It was inexperimented, but it sent him to a thousand places at the same time. He barely swallowed the moan that threatened his throat.

“I don’t know,” she sighed. “You wanna go?”

He switched their positions, allowing himself to tease her in turn. Kissing her jaw at first, he peppered his way to the cleavage of her undershirt, groaning. She wriggled in his arms and shrugged. The movement made a strap of her bras slide down her shoulder.

“Your panties are lace panties.”

She laughed. “That’s cheating.”

He chuckled, slipping a hand under her tank top. “I call this benefitting a bothered friend.”

He felt her twitch under him, and he knew he might have shattered the atmosphere by reminding each other who they were. He looked down at her, at the way her top revealed her milky stomach, at the ebony locks of hair that escaped her hair ties, at the way her eyes glimmered under the neon lights of her room. She suddenly looked nervous, and he regretted ever opening his mouth.

He didn’t want it to end.

His gaze fell upon the bra strap on her arm, and, gulping, he pulled it up on her shoulder. Night blue.

“Do you still want to play the game?”

He jumped at the sound of Marinette’s voice. It was still a bit hoarse, but it was clear that the momentum was lost. She looked at him with that curious bird gaze of hers, making it obvious that her question was genuine, and fighting the urge to bite his lip, he hesitantly nodded. Almost instantly, she pulled herself out of his embrace and sat up, not even bothering to put her clothes back on. All she did was pull her knees to her, silent suddenly. He noticed her gaze was tainted with sadness, maybe a bit of guilt.

He took a deep breath.

“Since you didn’t get to take off my shirt, I’ll just say something about myself,” she said finally, forcing a smile on her face.

He suddenly felt uncomfortable. “You don’t owe me an explanation.”

“I know, but… I’m tired today. Tired of acting like I’m okay when I’m ready to shatter at any trigger. I can’t afford it. So maybe… Maybe letting it out will help me cope.”

He didn’t answer, but they both knew they were past the level of their friendship where they needed vocal answers from each other. So she took a deep breath, and looking away, she said:

“I think my crush doesn’t like me back.”

It took a while for Chat to comprehend her exact sentence. “What?”

She spared a little glance towards him, but didn’t repeat. Not that it was particularly necessary.

“Why would you think that?” he finally asked.

“I don’t know. It just feels like that. I don’t really act like more than a friend around him anyway, so maybe… Maybe he got misled, or something.”

Chat frowned. “But you two are friends, right?”

“Nothing more.”

Crossing his legs on the bed, he put his chin in his hand, observing the room around them as if it’d give them any answers. Sure he wasn’t personally in love with Marinette, but that was because there was Ladybug is his life already. Aside from that, he was convinced that she had more than everything to please a man. She was funny, kind, and beautiful. She was one of the most hardworking people he knew, and quick-witted at that. Even he could tell she was an attractive young woman, and he could only remember all the boys who crushed on her in middle-school. Hell if he hadn’t met Ladybug, maybe he would’ve fallen for Marinette too.

What did that crush need to see her differently?

“This is it,” he suddenly exclaimed, startling the brunette before him.

“What?”

“If you two are friends, it means that you see each other more often than acquaintances. And that means you have more chances to make him _change_ the way he sees you.”

Marinette frowned, puzzled. “W-What do you mean by that?”

“Princess, minds are made to waver and change. That is why a thousand of thoughts cross our minds everyday,” he grinned and poked at her knee. “While surviving today allows tomorrow to come, your thoughts do not always follow you. In other words, him not liking you today doesn’t mean anything, and since it’s my friend with benefits duty to make sure you’re happy, I’m announcing to you that you’ve got the Magnifique Chat Noir to wingman you.”

She had a little smile, which Chat considered a small victory. She then rested her cheek on her forearm and muttered:

“I don’t really see what you could possibly fix in a clumsy girl like me.”

He was aware that she was apparently awkward around her crush, but her words still cut him. Mustering the courage to smile, he shook his head in negation.

“I bet I can give you at least 5 reasons for him to like you back.”

She didn’t answer.

“First,” he said, poking her foot. “You’re an amazingly talented artist. People are bound to admire you, Marinette.

Second,” he said this time, poking her other foot. “You care when you’re the most needed. Don’t go around believing that everyone is happy. Everyone is a little bit broken, but you, Marinette… You have the power to mend most people’s wounds, because you make them feel cared, and you genuinely do. Whoever you like is broken too.

Third,” he poked her arm, grinning when he spotted the ghost of a smile on her lips. “Man, you’re so sassy you could burn the entire world if you wanted to. You’re smart, and funny and you never use this quality to harm others. At least, I’ve never heard of my Princess doing so.

Fourth,” her other arm got poked this time, but she didn’t protest. “You’re brave. You really are. You’re probably one of the bravest people I know. Be it during the Illustrator incident, or the Gamer one, or any of all those Akuma fights I found you caught in. You never let the panic make you skip your friends, or fear cripple you during critical decisions that a civilian should not have to make. You may be scared around your crush, but I’m sure he already saw your courage in other circumstances, and you have to trust what he sees that you do not know of.

Finally,” he said, and this time he poked her forehead, moving his face closer to hers to peer into her gaze. “You’re loud as heck like holy crap, Marinette. You need to get yourself checked, what do you mean by ‘ _he doesn’t notice me_ ’. An elephant would notice you!”

She burst out laughing, brushing him away with a light punch on the arm. “God, Chat you ruined everything with the last one!”

“Hey, I’m supposed to be honest and objective,” he answered, chuckling.

She smiled, looking at him without a word. It was a comfortable silence, and he gladly smiled back, wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

“You know,” she declared. “It almost sounded like you’re in love with me.”

He laughed. “Would love to, Princess, but your knight in shining armour already has a lady he courts.”

“Good. Wouldn’t like to be breaking your heart over here. Maybe I should wingman you back.”

“Probably. You girls read each other’s minds like fucking Professor X.”

She giggled and rested her head on his shoulder. “I should shave my head then.”

He made a sort of choked noise and she laughed, patting him on the back.

“I was joking, don’t die on me, kitty.”

“I’m not. I mean, come to think of it, a bald head is the perfect mirror for me to admire my exquisite charms.” She punched his arm and he let out a small noise. “Hey, I call out animal violence.”

“Yeah, yeah, how do you plan on wingmanning me anyway?”

“Eh,” he said, chuckling. “you know what they say. Curiosity kills the cat.”

“Satisfaction brings it back?”

“Nice try, Princess.”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “Just say that you have no idea on what to do.”

Her gaze rested on his chest. The zipper was still unfastened, and she could make out the form of his nipple through the opening. The urge to play with the little bud was curiously strong, and she felt much better anyway.

“Your last name is Vanflickerbutter,” she said, smirking.

“What? I know I have a secret identity to keep but come on. That’s completely wrong,” he answered with a laugh.

He didn’t look at her immediately, only puzzled when she slipped away from under his arm. He turned around to look at her, and raised an eyebrow when he noticed her smirk.

When she removed her shirt, he would’ve sworn his eyes fell out of their sockets.

He felt the arousal strike him like a wave, almost guilty of the speed to which his boner popped. His mouth dried instantly, and his mind went blank for an entire second. Though the ghost of a blush seemed to colour her cheeks, she appeared mostly satisfied of the reaction she’d triggered in him, because she leaned closer and he felt the weight of her hand on his bell.

“What is it that you know about me?”

He gulped, struggling to come up with a coherent thought. He was ridiculous. And yet, he couldn’t look away from the tantalising blue of his friend’s eyes, drinking in the mischief that lit them up as she slipped a hand inside his suit. He instinctively moved to stand over her, hands framing her head from each side. She was smiling a lot less now, lips parted, eyes riveted on his, waiting for his next move. He kissed the space between her breasts, trailing his way to the straps of her bra. He felt her buckle under him and he was no better than her.

“You… Want to stop,” he groaned, nibbling at the soft skin of her shoulder. She exhaled, running her fingers over his sides. He barely registered the sound of his zipper as she lowered it to its limit, or the leather of his suit as it slid down his shoulders.

All his dizzy mind was concentrating on was the pearly skin of her chest, the dark blue that covered her breasts and he felt her shudder under the touch of his claws. It was intoxicating, the feeling of having this much effect on someone despite the fact that you were already drowning. He caught the strap of her bra with his claw and carefully slid it down her shoulder, hardly breathing, licking his way up to the crook of her neck.

She was panting, gasping, but in the haze of her mind, she managed to cross her fingers on the back of his neck, her thumbs playing with the sweaty locks that hung there. He puffed at the tingle that ran down his spine, purring when he felt her moist lips down his arm. She moved fast, kissing, sucking until she reached his chest, until her teeth found the pink bud of his nipple. She nibbled and he couldn’t stop the moan that escaped him.

“Marinette…”

He felt her cheeks burn against his chest and her muscles contracted, almost as if she’d waited the entire evening for him to gasp her name. Her bangs tickled his skin, soothed his inflamed flesh as she sucked on his tit. She circled it with her tongue, her breath thawing the sensitive bud, and he guessed she didn’t do it on purpose, but the heat was maddening nevertheless. He rolled aside, unable to stand on his elbows anymore.

He stared at the ceiling, heaving as he tried to catch his breath. She was quick to lean over him, an arm on each side of his torso, her face filling his entire view when she looked down at him. The way her messy hair framed her flushed face, maybe as dark as her sparkling eyes, stirred his insides.

“Am I winning?” she asked.

He chuckled, voice hoarse. “Are you?”

“You tell me.”

She moved her free hand to brush away his bangs, wiping his sweaty forehead with her palm. His skin was burning under her touch, and she couldn’t resist the temptation to play with his feathery hair. It felt rigid at times, as if he’d used too much hair spray and it didn’t completely leave when he’d showered. She was heaving too, unsatisfied, her finger slithering all the way down his face, his throat, his collarbone. It was there that she let her hand linger the most, caressing the line of his collar. He didn’t move at all.

Flashes of her fantasies filled her gooey mind when her gaze rested on his lips. Her heart fluttered, and she instantly looked away. She could discern the drum of his heart under her hand, like a bird fluttering to escape its cage.

She jumped when she felt Chat’s fingers trail up her arm. They climbed up to her untied hair, stroked her neck and the beginning of her jaw. She could feel his hand trembling despite the tenderness he tried to put in his movement. It was nervous, careful.

“I don’t really know where to go from here,” he murmured.

She had no idea either. She did have this prodding burn in her stomach, and the uncomfortable wetness of her arousal in her panties. But while she’d trusted her instincts so far, whatever track she’d been following had dried up. She was a virgin.

She was sure there were games that Alya had talked to her about. Games that didn’t involve sex in its rough definition.

She frowned, lost in her reasoning. The thought of having her first time with Chat Noir didn’t please her. She wasn’t looking for a mindblowing first time, but she felt uncomfortable taking the game a stage further today. It was too early. Too messy.

She tried to remember the exact word Alya had given her.

Pre…

Presex? There was a ‘mi’ somewhere.

“Preliminaries?”

She saw him blush when she said the word. She assumed he recognised it, as well as its meaning. Was it anything worse than their current state?

“A-Are you sure?” he asked, looking away in embarrassment.

She bit her lip. “I’m not even sure what the word means.”

He cleared his throat, looking back at her. He seemed to dwell on the best way to put it to her, because he scrunched his nose and focused on an imaginary spot past her.

“It’s… A wide category of… sexual activities that do not involve any uhm…”

He cleared his throat again, visibly flustered. He then moved his hands between them and mimed a finger entering a zero. Marinette could feel her ears vibrate in embarrassment.

_Oh._

She looked away. “D-Do you uhm… Know some…”

He let out a deep breath, looking anywhere but her way. “S-Some y-yeah but I’ve… Never tried any before…”

“Y-You can show me, I guess.”

He wanted to back away. As much as his dick throbbed, he felt anxious, scared to mess up, and more than uneasy that he was talking about this with Marinette of all people. It made him terribly uncomfortable. But a little voice in his head was piping that it was mostly his lack of experience speaking for him there. That he was scared to take things further because it meant stepping out of his comfort zone. Almost -no, exactly like his first making-out experience 2 years ago, during one of his father’s fashion shows.

Would he rather do it with a stranger?

“Okay,” he whispered, licking his dry lips. “Let’s try something. Lie on your back.”

She obliged, and he could feel his heart pounding like crazy in his chest as he leaned over her. How many times had they switched positions tonight?

He took a deep breath. “It’s not going to hurt you. I promise.”

She nodded, visibly nervous despite the trust she put in him. He tucked his claws into his palm and stroked her through her panties with the back of his finger. He didn’t want to touch her with his claws, by fear of hurting her. Still, she jerked under him, and he felt her bud twitch against his finger, betraying her sudden excitement. It emboldened him, and he brushed against her pulsating womanhood, looking for a more sensitive spot.

Marinette moaned when he touched her clitoris, twisting, grinding and when she pressed his face between her breasts, he could feel the distinct dig of her nails in his shoulders. He tried to pinch her bud between two fingers and she gasped again. Her breathing was choppier, louder, not a full-blown moan, but it sent electric shocks down his veins. His own cock was painful, and he ached to relieve himself, but he refrained by fear that any physical contact may be his final straw. He wouldn’t be able to take his hand away, wouldn’t be able to stop himself if he didn’t and it was simply not something he felt confident enough to do openly.

So he focused on Marinette.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Un-betaed chapter. I'm posting it already because it takes me too much time to find a beta and wait for it to be corrected.  
> It's my first time posting a long chapter with nothing but a quick proofreading by me. Still, I hope you enjoyed it as much as the other chapters!
> 
> Big winkwonks and kudos to breeeliss and rhapsodyinpink for the hand anatomy! ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;)
> 
> And once again, I want to thank all of you for the never-ending support you keep giving this fic! Thank you for the kudos and the wonderful comments, don't be afraid to share the fic, and please please please STAY AWESOME!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Marinette's luck books a flight for Hawaii

It is said that some people feel aroused just from someone’s touch.

That mankind is a beast and social stratifications and hierarchies don’t matter in sex.

It has always been a difficult concept to grasp for Adrien. As a model, he was blessed with good looks and a wide list of prestigious contacts. Though sheltered for the majority of his childhood, his life was now a never ending cycle of appointments and social events, girls and boys swarming around him like bees.

In the thrill of parties, alcohol, puberty and social games, he’d had the chance to make out more often than not. Closets, rooms, dark corridors… All these opportunities that any teenager would die for. The golden teenage dream of anyone who was ignorant of the tight codes of the upper classes.

Adrien had always yearned to be like others, to melt into the crowd and escape the spotlight. For someone who admired Ladybug for her uniqueness, the shadow of anonymity was a blessing to him. And if he needed to enjoy sex like everyone else, to be like everyone else, he’d jump on the chance any day.

Except he did not enjoy it.

He didn’t like the way everyone sashayed around him like they were so smart about what they did, like they could never fail at pleasuring him. He didn’t like the way a complete stranger kissed him, let their hands trail down his body, manicured nails or deep voices tickling his burning skin. It felt weird. It felt like watching himself from afar, doing something that he enjoyed much less than the person in his arms.

It felt good at times. When he would close his eyes, and focus solely on the sensations. Perhaps was it the only true part to the claim that sex was all about the touch. But it wasn’t enough to make him ignore whoever he was with. Not enough for his instincts to submerge his consciousness.

Sex was not the drug he had been led to believe it was.

Or whatever stage he always stopped at. Barely even preliminaries. Just making out.

Did that count as sex?

He sighed and took a canapé from the tray handed to him.

“Your father’s last collection turned out to be sublime as expected.”

The man to his left was one of the most influential fashion investors of the parisian bubble. He was regal in his designer suit, ebony hair veined with white that chalked his temples entirely. Whether it was a natural aging process or the result of hair dye, it was impossible to tell. Being one of the main shareholders of Gabriel’s company, he was also a valuable asset, and Adrien was only too aware of the risks of upsetting him. A mine field in short.

“You know how he is,” Adrien said with a polite smile. “He never allows himself to go below perfection.”

“And now more than ever,” the man acknowledged. “Any idea on his future co-branding show, by the way?”

Adrien gave a little well-practiced chuckle. “You know my father. He prefers the element of surprise. And I know you'll understand, as a man of great imagination.”

The man snickered. “Secretive like your father, and silver-tongued at that.”

“You almost make it look like a flaw,” he answered good-naturedly.

The man laughed despite his glaring defeat, retreating towards safer, more boring topics. It was much to Adrien’s relief; he didn’t like the stress of dodging bullets, in spite of it being his everyday routine as Gabriel Agreste’s son.

He hardly ever knew what his father was up to anyway. Their rare encounters mostly consisted of small talk, a poor and awkward attempt at family bonding and a couple of excuses to get away from the cringe. A regular pattern since his mother’s death. Though understandable at first, his father’s awkwardness had mainly persisted because of their mutual lack of efforts, like two friends trying to rekindle their old friendship but failing because it just “doesn’t feel like it used to” anymore. It sucked for Adrien to sometimes sit in his room and wonder if they could’ve handled it differently while still being too lazy to suggest a solution.

So all he knew about the co-branding was what everyone knew already. A grandiose fashion show in partnership with the famous stylist Karl Lagerfeld. The man known for his pioneer catwalks, special effects and flamboyance. To have both Gabriel Agreste and Karl Lagerfeld organising one event was an internationally awaited event.

Rumour said they were renting the Grand Palais, the ageless monument that was one of Lagerfeld's favourite stages. It sounded promising, what with the legendary shows organised every year there by the stylist. Nothing had, for the time being, seemed able to stop him. Not a 40 feet tall lion, or a 115 feet tall space rocket that _launches_ 10 feet in the air.

In all his years of modeling, Adrien had never admired someone like he’d admired Lagerfeld and the thrill of walking down a catwalk designed by him was like no other. Whoever’s clothes he would be wearing wouldn’t matter, not when he would be in an entirely new universe, built by the genius’s mind itself. A Paris inside Paris. A world inside another.

He wasn’t sure he would have the chance to take part in the catwalk show though. He may be one of the rising stars of the industry, but being mostly a photo model made him lack runway experience.

The shareholder eventually excused himself and moved to other guests. Adrien appreciated the few seconds of tranquility he had before a couple of photographers came to talk to him, eager to introduce him to whatever new project they were working on. He loved the artistic world and the stunning innovations they constantly came up with in terms of poses, clothes, and photo editing effects. But he also believed there was a time for everything, and after two flutes of champagne and an entire guest body to entertain, he was way beyond the ability to perfectly focus on work talk.

Not only that, but despite the incredible creativity of the artistic departments, he knew the French people had the regrettable habit to talk more than act, and that half the projects he was listening to would be abandoned and forgotten. It was all smiles and talk.

And it made him want to scream forever into the void.

He nodded diligently, his mind drifting towards the patrol he’d scheduled with Ladybug for later that night. It was the breather he needed in the middle of all the glitter and gold, and he honestly wanted to fake a stomach ache, run to the nearest bathroom and transform already. But his father’s reputation was at stake, and he was there, being the dutiful son he needed to be.

He often wondered how these galas would be if Ladybug was there with him. Surely they would be more entertaining, haunted by her mischievous blue eyes, calculating and sparkling with wit. They would probably play the fit this word in a sentence game, stealing flutes and appetizers, miming guests and trying to ruin each other’s composure at critical moments. She would probably get tired of all the hypocrisy of the event and convince him to transform to escape the boredom. She would race him on the rooftops, giggle so much they would probably wake a few children on their way. Guests laughed during the galas too, but their roar was too loud to be sincere, too phony. They would talk about their wealthy anecdotes and criticise opponents. Listening to them made him feel complicit to the hypocrisy he abhorred.

No, if Ladybug was there, she wouldn’t be wearing a mask, though the image was a bit fuzzy in his mind. None of the crème de la crème would know her, none of them would take her away from him to interview the hero of Paris. They both would be playing dares with the champagne, and her cheeks would be flushed, almost as red as her lipstick. She would be a bit tipsy, a bit too daring, but he wouldn’t mind, because her presence intoxicated him already. Maybe she would pull him in for a dance since the DJs of these fashion events were very good. But her high heels would maybe hurt her, and she would pull him away to the darkness of a corner or a nearby corridor to remove them. She would be a bit too dizzy, cling to him for balance and maybe their little haven would be a bit too cramped. The strobe lights would draw multicolour patterns on her face, make her eyes glimmer a bit more than usual. She would laugh and her breath would tickle his face, and they would be too close. Too close for him to not look at her lips and forget the way her body felt against his. He pictured the smirk on her face when she would realise how starstruck he was, maybe even moving her head a little closer to tease him, her fingers trailing up his chest, light as feathers.

_‘Do you want me to kiss you, kitty?’_

He blinked, brushing away the uninvited reverie. Was it the right place to have these kinds of thoughts? Definitely not. Clearing his throat, he fanned himself with his shirt and smiled nervously at the photographers.

“I think the champagne is getting to me,” he apologised. “I need some fresh air, if you will excuse me.”

The walk to the nearest door was a journey through the mountains, long, tedious, full of polite dodges until he reached the corridor and practically _ran_ to the window. It was freezing outside, but he found it refreshing, brutal enough to remind him that reality was not the camera flashes and the glitz. He took a deep breath and stretched his arms, briefly glancing sideways before dropping the perfect son act.

The music was furiously pounding behind him, barely stifled by the apartment’s walls despite the closed doors. As he leaned outside, the buzz of cars somewhat covered the noise, klaxons mixing with the clink of jugs and laughter from nearby pubs. He couldn’t see any rooftop from the second floor, having instead a wide and clear view of what the neighbours were up to when their curtains weren’t pulled. It wasn’t more interesting than the party behind him, so he gave up watching after the second window, now considering the best way to slip out and transform.

_Come on, Adrien, don’t be a child._

He got himself together, reminding himself of his duties. He was way past the age of pretending to have a curfew to avoid night events. Letting out a sigh, he played with a gel-slicked lock of hair, preparing himself to go back to the circus inside when a flash of red caught his attention. He frowned. Did he really want to leave so much that his mind was playing tricks on him? Another flash, and he leaned forward, scanning whatever glimpse he could get of the rooftops. His heart skipped a tiny bit, but he mentally commanded it to calm down because he didn’t really want to get his hopes up.

The position he was in was kind of precarious, his feet having no support to cling to in case of a fall. But he had been Chat Noir for long enough to manage the little acrobacy. Still, he hoped no one would walk past him, for they had no way to know that he knew, in fact, what he was doing. Squinting, he regretted not having his mask on, for the streetlights didn’t reach the top of the buildings and he could barely make out the gray-blue tiles without his night vision. He was ready to lean even further when he suddenly felt the familiar pressure of a _wire_ wrap around his waist. He barely had time to process what was happening before he was pulled out of the building and landing on one of the rooftops with a painful thud.

Someone up there in the sky must’ve heard his silent pleas, because when he dazedly looked up at his potential abductor, he could’ve sworn he’d heard the ding of his “Adrien.exe stopped responding”.

* * *

 Marinette had made a thousand bad decisions in her life.

Realistically, their amount could compete with Ladybug’s luck. To the point that sometimes she wondered if it wouldn’t run out on her one day and very probably sue her for ill-treatment.

And in practice, there _had_ been a lot of times where she’d assumed her luck had just thrown in the towel and booked a flight for Hawaii. In the middle of a thousand other times when she just didn’t know what was going on.

Now was a perfect example.

Was a completely rattled Adrien Agreste, tangled in her yoyo wire, 5 floors above the ground supposed to be a good thing? Was her luck winking at her or finally sacrificing her to the gods of karma?

Mistaking salt for sugar in her dad’s birthday cake now seemed to have been, in comparison… Well, a piece of cake.

“L-Ladybug?”

It took her five solid seconds to snap out of her thoughts and untie the boy. A _whoosh_ and her yoyo whizzed back into place as she rushed to her friend, checking him for any accidental bruise.

“Adrien I-I am so sorry,” she exclaimed. “I saw you at that window and I thought you were going to fall and I just instinctively threw my yoyo and… I was _patrolling_ nearby and-”

Truth be told, she _was_ patrolling. Well, more like _filling time_ before Chat Noir’s arrival. Then, she’d unexpectedly spotted Adrien Agreste at this window that was definitely not his, guessing that he was probably taking a break from a party based on the loud music she could hear. The initial plan was to consider this coincidence a gift from fate and spend the rest of the evening secretly gaping at him.

But just as she laid down on the tiles, she spotted the little flash of loneliness is his gaze, and a voice in her mind wondered if he was taking a physical or an emotional break from the tumult inside. Was he okay? She wouldn’t know. Adrien had often seemed untouchable to her. Or at least his feelings had. While he always seemed to exert as much effort as he could for others, he rarely ever spoke of his own negative feelings. Sure, he’d been more than honest whenever he said he’d never had the chance to do this or that, and he wouldn’t hide the little contrite smile of  a kid who’d been far too sheltered for his own good. But she’d never heard him talk about his problems openly. It reminded her of Chat, who sometimes confided in her during particularly calm patrols. The night helped, made everything look a bit more ethereal. Like whatever you’d say in the dark was bound to stay there, secret.

She assumed that the fact they didn’t know their identities helped too. Talking to a stranger was often easier, and as she stared at the second floor’s lone boy, she wondered if she could, as Ladybug, cheer him up. So she’d swung in front of the window.

And heaven help her, she’d cowered _twice_ because in the split second it had taken her to throw her yoyo, she’d thought over their conversation enough times to last her a lifetime. And eventually, she had hidden behind a chimney and tried to make sense of her entire behaviour. She was _Ladybug_. Heroine of Paris and fearless young woman. Adrien Agreste only knew her by name and she could behave however she wanted around him.

It wasn’t their first time meeting as Ladybug and Adrien. But it would pretty much be their first time interacting in circumstances other than an Akuma attack.

 _So be it_ , she thought.

The curiosity of discovering a bit of his life was too strong, and being Ladybug bolstered her to go and talk to him without having anything to reproach herself of. To him, she was nothing like the clumsy Marinette. Maybe she could even get to fluster him with her daring persona.

The thought had convinced her, and she’d stepped out of her hiding place only to spot half his body out the window and hear blaring alarms go off in her head.

And here there were.

On a rooftop.

In the cold.

With no acceptable excuse as to how she noticed the second floor of a random building.

“I heard the music,” she blurted. “I was like _oh why are they so noisy_ and then I saw you and then you looked like you were about to fall so I saved you!”

 _Nice catch_ , she thought, suppressing a sigh of relief.

Still, the model looked at her like he’d just seen a ghost. He was visibly having a hard time comprehending the situation. Or maybe why exactly he’d looked like he was about to fall.

Maybe she did overreact a bit and unnecessarily pulled him out.

God, she had pulled him _out_ of a fancy gala _from the actual window_ . What if someone had _seen_ that.

She felt the blood drain out of her face.

She was so screwed.

“I’m sorry,” she groaned, shoving her face in her hands. “For literally abducting you from your party.”

Adrien’s eyes widened. “W-Wait you tried to _save_ me?”

Ladybug winced, looking away to hide the budding blush in her cheeks despite the dim light. “I mean, apparently.”

She glanced back at the boy and there were so many conflicted emotions that flashed in his gaze that she felt lost. Eventually, he let out a nervous laugh and rubbed the back of his neck.

“I mean… You did save me. Not from the fall but most definitely from the party below.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Well, the prospect of faking a fire to escape this madness tends to get more and more appealing after the 32nd guest,” he said with a little laugh.

She laughed, but Adrien didn’t follow up. It was weird, so she stopped immediately, anxiously looking away from the boy. No one spoke during that time, as she had suddenly found an immense interest in her fingers, and he didn’t seem to be planning to look away from her, a nervous smile plastered all over his face as he did so.

The silence was particularly uncomfortable, and though none would gather the courage to speak up, both feared the sound of their hearts. From the rooftop, they could hear the guffaws and the music, even the clinking of their glasses sometimes. Cars would roll in and out of the street, but the more Ladybug tried to focus on the sounds around her, the more she felt like small-talking in silence.

 _Come on, Mari,_ she admonished herself. _It’s not your first time having to adapt a plan to unexpected circumstances._

And it definitely wasn’t.

Now they were there, and she didn’t really want to just take him back to the party and deal with the bitterness of yet another missed opportunity.

“I guess this accident was a good accident then,” she said, clearing her throat. “And your karma must be having a good day because you get to enjoy the company of none other but _the_ heroine of Paris!”

He chuckled lightly. “Am I not lucky?”

She decided to ignore the little skip of her heart when he’d said that.

“I’m sorry that the rooftops are a bit cold, though.”

“It’s okay,” he reassured her. “It helps me clear my mind.”

“From posh stuck-ups?”

“Not supposed to call them that, but yes,” he answered with a little laugh.

“I’m going to tell you a secret,” she whispered in a conspiratorial tone. “You should always call them that. Any occasion you get. The less you do it, the stronger they become.”

“Wait, I _am_ a posh stuck-up,” he said, offended. “Do I really have to doom myself?”

She blinked. “N-No! You’re completely different! You’re like… A good kind of posh. Like you uhm, I don’t know, you’re not… You’re a noodle posh?”

He stared at her for a second, as if he were trying to make sure that she did in fact say “noodle posh”. Whether he’d reached a conclusion or not, his laughter seemed to get the best of him and he puffed:

“ _Noodle posh_.”

“And I’m completely utterly mortified…”

“ _A NOODLE POSH.”_

“I can’t believe I called you that.”

“ _Meet Adrien Agreste: Noodle posh extraordinaire._ ”

“I mean, like the core idea was that you’re soft!”

“ _Noodle posh, everyone._ ”

“And actually quite nice to eat, especially with- _wait_ . _I did not mean any of this._ ”

She stopped herself right then and there. This was it.

This rampage needed to stop.

Adrien was, on the other hand, struggling to breathe and lost in his hilarity. Completely lost. And Marinette didn’t have the slightest idea of what nightmare she’d gotten herself into.

Picture yourself with your celebrity crush, alone, making them laugh because they actually happen to be a human being. And their entire humanity just runs you over like a train and it’s so gorgeous and beautiful. But they’re also laughing because you made a complete fool of yourself and you’re torn between complete mortification and love.

You’re faced with two choices.

Either kiss them.

Or jump off the roof.

Marinette was contemplating the second option with extreme interest.

“I’m sorry,” she squeaked, dropping her shoulders.

“Don’t be!”

The ghost of laughter was still palpable in his voice, but his eyes shone with gratitude. And maybe something she couldn’t really point out. Maybe because nothing in their relationship justified it. Yet, she could’ve sworn there was fondness in his gaze. The kind of fondness you have for a friend who just did something that only they could ever do.

“I needed the laugh, really,” he added. “I’m glad you came up.”

And he was.

He really was glad.

Because she had appeared when he had needed her the most. When his own reverie couldn’t help him anymore. Because daydreaming about someone you missed only ever worked to a certain extent.

And here she was.

It was weird to see a flustered Ladybug since he usually knew her to be particularly level-headed around people who weren’t Chat. But he assumed it was mainly due to the misunderstanding that had brought them both to the rooftop. Still, he found himself completely taken aback by the way her nervousness pulled at his heart, sending shards of affection shooting through his veins.

He had known Ladybug for three years. Loved her for almost as long, and seen a thousand sides of her during stolen patrols, lazy afternoons all over Paris, and childish games only they seemed to cherish despite their growing up. He’d seen her cry and laugh and get mad and jealous and a thousand of other emotions that only ever cemented how precious she was to him. All those sides that were both her biggest flaws and qualities. That made her who she was, and what she was to him.

He’d seen her frail and painfully transparent, and yet the nervous giggle that now escaped her lips made his insides churn. He knew he probably should’ve felt offended that she was showing that side to Adrien Agreste who was, now, a perfect stranger. But it was still him, her partner. And it almost felt like having a mask or not didn’t matter in that instant.

He wanted to open his mouth and let a familiar pun roll down his tongue, watch her roll her eyes in despair before shooting an even worse reparty, probably flashing away through the night for him only to follow her. But a thought stopped him.

He was Adrien Agreste.

Not Chat Noir.

He was but a civilian within a thousand of others she saved everyday.

She didn’t know him.

“Is it that boring?”

He blinked at the sound of her voice, lost in his thoughts.

“Oh uhm… What is boring?”

“Well,” she clarified. “Being a model. I mean, away from sets and catwalks.”

“Why would you want to know that?” he asked.

“I keep seeing you on billboards, on magazines, in the news. And we often bump into each other during Akuma attacks. But I assume you’re something other than a face.”

She had said that with a little smile, as if she truly cherished the fact that he was a human. He felt flattered, because his Lady saw him everywhere, everyday, with her unmasked eyes; might even like him as a model. Because his face was plastered all over Paris, she thought of him a bit more than she thought of other civilians, and no matter how arrogant the thought rang in his head, he couldn’t stop the flutter of his heart. Sure they often talked about celebrities and random topics as Ladybug and Chat Noir.

But it had never occurred to him that maybe the girl behind the mask was painfully aware of talking to a celebrity whenever they met.

Not only that but this girl even _saw_ past the make-up and the photoshop effects. She saw past the model pout to see that he was in fact a person. And the thought made him a bit dizzy.

“It’s tiring,” he spouted when she seemed to worry about his lack of answer. “I mean that… I love modeling. It’s always been my dream. With my mother and my father. But a lot of responsibilities lie upon your shoulders. Because people remember your face and what you do. So… It’s all about being careful every time.”

She brought her legs to her, resting her chin on her knees. “So it’s sort of like living your entire life wearing a mask in order to live your dream?”

“Kind of.”

He briefly wondered if Chat was truly Adrien’s mask. And if the opposite wasn’t the righter thing to say.

“I find it sad that in order to be true to ourselves, we need to lie to others.”

“Do you lie?”

She made a little scoff. “I don’t like lies. But I guess my secret identity makes me fit the bill.”

“I don’t think that’s lying,” he answered, shivering a bit from the cold. When she briefly glanced at him but didn’t answer, he cleared his throat and added, “You don’t pretend to be someone else. You simply choose to keep information to yourself. You never forced anyone to assume anything they decided to assume about you.”

And while he had always wanted to reveal his identity to Ladybug, he’d long ago decided to accept the reasons behind her secretiveness. Safety, business, respect. He didn’t agree with all of them, but he accepted them as a choice she’d made.

She had never pretended to want to reveal her identity. She had always been clear about it. Yet, the way she put it now made him question the exact kind of safety she meant by keeping their masks on. Why did she think it was a lie?

She smiled, and he felt his heart fidget a bit too much. She was radiant, even under the pale moonlight, and she wanted him to believe she was a liar.

 _He_ was a liar. _He_ smiled every day to everyone, making them believe he was okay. And she was right. He lied to model. He lied in order for people not to pry too much because he didn’t want to small-talk them while he could be running across the rooftops as Chat Noir.

“Nothing looks more like a lie than truth itself,” she said. “Or so I hear. So I wonder what the limits of truth are.”

There was a beat during which they both relished the cold breeze of the night. Adrien was freezing in his thin shirt, shivering despite his best intentions. He knew it was getting late, but the sight of Ladybug in the night, caring about _Adrien Agreste_ didn’t really make him want to move. Still, her gaze flickered to him and she seemed to notice the twitching of his shoulders because her eyes widened and she exclaimed:

“Oh no, I’m sorry. I didn’t notice you were so cold. I’ll take you back inside.”

“No, no, it’s okay I-”

“They’re probably dead worried about you too. I mean, you just _vanished_.”

“Ladybug it’s-”

She got up, already untying her yoyo. Whatever plea he had died in his mouth when she turned around, offering her hand for support. Her fingers felt warm against his bare palm, the fabric of her suit like scales against his skin. Though her hand was incredibly petite in his own, her grip was firm and she didn’t stagger once as he pulled himself upright.

Her flowery perfume filled his nostrils as he stood up, mixing with the smell of night trees and chimneys. She looked up at him on account of their height difference, but the feverish blue of her eyes was such that it engulfed him entirely. He had spent the entire evening dreaming about those blue eyes, and now they were staring right back at him, and he almost wanted to believe that Ladybug was as enticed by him as he was by her. Almost wanted to believe that his yearning was reciprocated.

He didn’t know that she was completely losing it inside. Didn’t know that his willow eyes were peering at her with far too much honesty than she could take. He seemed… Fascinated. She hoped to be in denial, because she didn’t want to get her hopes up and see them crushed again.

Yet, he had never looked at Marinette that way, and she couldn’t forget that she was Ladybug in his eyes right now. Did Ladybug trigger something in him?

He moved closer and the way he wrapped his arms around her waist felt almost familiar, practiced. But her mind was too busy processing the fact that _Adrien Agreste’s chest was touching hers and she could feel his breath against her face and smell his cinnamon woody perfume and why did his chest feel so soft_? Her mind was too foggy, and the haze kept growing the tighter he held her.

She was sure he was doing this on purpose, but when she searched his gaze for any hint of mischief, it was in vain. Carefully, she slid one arm around his chest, checking that her yoyo was firmly wrapped around the chimney before throwing them off the roof. Her body felt cold the moment Adrien pulled away to climb up the balustrade of the window, and she bit her lip in frustration. He turned around with a contrite smile, dusting his clothes as he did so. His gaze quickly glanced around, checking for any guest or waiters who’d happen to walk in on him.

When he made sure that they were indeed alone, he allowed himself to lean over the railing. Their faces were barely inches away, but if either of them had noticed, neither seemed to be moving away.

“Thanks for the save,” he murmured.

A faint chuckle escaped her lips. “Next time you want to escape a party, don’t go around dangling out the window, please.”

“I’ll take note of that.”

She smiled. “And I’ll be happy to help with anything, really.”

“Really?”

Something flashed in his gaze, maybe too faint in the darkness for her to recognise. But she felt her breath catch in her throat and the night air suddenly stopped being as cold as before.

“You’d help if I asked for a kiss?”

Her eyes widened, the beating of her own heart deafening the music and the cars and the city. Almost on their own accord, her lips parted and all she could make out in the sudden black-out of her mind was the emerald gaze she was gaping at.

 _Yes_ , she wanted to say.

 _Yes_ , she wanted to scream.

She wanted to close the gap between their two faces and let her lips do the talking instead.

If only her brain accepted to do its job and stop freezing whenever she needed it. Her mouth managed to form a sound just as Adrien moved back.

“I’m just kidding,” Adrien said with a chuckle.

She blinked, and he added:

“Just got a Spider-man vibe for a second. Sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

“O-Oh n-no, you didn’t,” she sputtered with a nervous giggle.

“Oh great then,” he answered, looking away.

“Y-You’d make a great M-Mary Jane though.”

The ghost of a blush coloured his cheeks, but Marinette was already averting her gaze, oblivious to the turmoil of the boy in front of her. Eventually, he rubbed the back of his neck and let out a nervous laugh:

“A-Alright then. I probably should head inside.”

“R-right,” she stuttered. “The g-guests are probably wondering what takes you so long.”

“Y-Yeah.”

He turned around, and Ladybug pulled at her yoyo wire. She almost didn’t hear the “thank you” he addressed her way as she whisked towards the rooftops.

Almost.

Did “You’d make a great Mary Jane” qualify as the next “Hello, handsome” in Marinette’s Blooper Best Of?

She groaned and swung herself as far as she could.

Chat Noir better wingman her the best he could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter unexpectedly became Ladrien and let me say that I'm really glad it did because it was really fun to write.
> 
> I'd like to thank Tamara (booksfullofme) for her incredibly quick betaing :D You're a life saviour!  
> Thanking Priya too for helping me out with the sass taming and of course you, readers, for your amazing comments and support!
> 
> Fortunately, I'm able to update faster due to my being already over with the school year, so get ready for more ;)


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